The 68th Annual Hunger Games: The Career Breaker
by RoadieMcRoadface
Summary: Eamon and Nott train for what will be the final time as tomorrow is Eamon's last chance to be reaped for the Hunger Games. What Nott doesn't know is that Eamon plans to volunteer as tribute anyway. And he has his sights set on six tributes in particular.
1. Eight Years

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

\- **This is my first time ever writing fan-fiction of any sort in any format. Please excuse me if I'm not familiar with the intricacies and nuances as such.**

\- **I have not read any other Hunger Games fan-fiction, so my writing is completely and %100 my own.**

\- **The style and structure of this story is based off a mix of the first Hunger Games film and book (more so the film than the book).**

\- **I imagine the premise is something that has been done plenty of times over – The concepts of the Hunger Games, the Capitol and the twelve Districts still remain, but with completely original characters and history instead. In other words, I basically was watching YouTube clips one day and came up with my own ideas for how the Hunger Games could be held. The ideas took hold of me and here I am writing about it.**

\- **Occasionally there will be POV chapters from other characters just to spice things up a bit, but not regularly. For the most part, the story will focus on the main character, Eamon.**

\- **I've really enjoyed planning this out and hope to keep doing it for a while. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated, and I'll make an effort to respond to any questions you have.**

Chapter 1.

An unsettling chill descended over the dark and quiet wheat fields of District 9, as though nature itself was preparing for what lay ahead the next morning. Curfew was in effect, as it always was, and Peacekeepers patrolled the streets perhaps hoping to catch some unlucky renegade trying to escape the Reaping. There was usually at least one of those each year. They hardly ever patrolled near Victor's Village though. Which made sense - why waste manpower to watch over a meager three houses? The occupant of House 1 was seventy years old and riddled with dementia, and the occupant of House 2 was a hermit only ever seen a handful of times a year.

If the Peacekeepers had ever checked in on the occupants of House 3 however, between the hours of 8 and 11 at night on Wednesdays and Saturdays, they would have found it strangely vacant. On nights such as this, strange noises could be heard from deep within the woods on the far side of Victor's Village.

Eamon Cunningham was a boy of 18 years old, with messy brown hair and green eyes, and at that moment, covered in sweat with a look of sheer focus on his face. As he tore through the trees, a man with scruffy golden hair and a rough stubble followed him with one eye on Eamon, the other on his watch.

Eamon stumbled into a clearing marked by two tree stumps on either side.

"Nice one," said Nott from behind him. "Two minutes, twenty-five seconds. You shaved a couple off on the tree climb I noticed."

Eamon was quick to regain his breath.

"Yeah, tried some new stuff there," he said shortly.

Nott nodded and pointed to an assortment of mismatched tools lying on top of an old oak stump, "We'll finish with some knife practice and call it a night."

Eamon walked over to the sorry-looking collection and picked up a handful of various knives. All the tools and weapons Nott had acquired for training over the years were hardly the caliber of weapons he could expect in the Games, but together they had made do with what they had. After all, it was supposed to be highly illegal to train for the Hunger Games. A lot of the tools were quite damaged from overuse, and certainly weren't meant for the kind of tasks Eamon and Nott put them through. They had to make a number of them themselves, and when they couldn't, a good substitute could be found anywhere if you knew what you were looking for. Eamon had grown rather fond of these makeshift measures.

Eamon stood in his usual position, facing four trees with cracks in the trunks just big enough for a blade to slip in. Quick as a flash, the first knife found its home, and another, and another. Before the last one left his hand, Nott threw something large and heavy at him. With the knife leaving Eamon's right hand, he spun around in the same fluid motion, anticipating Nott's trick and caught the object in his left hand.

"Oh, come on," he laughed. "That was obvious even for you. You'd never end on knife practice."

Nott grinned. Since this would be their last night of training, he'd decided to give a little sparring practice with Eamon's favorite weapon – the hoe. Over the years, Eamon had acquired a degree of proficiency with a wide variety of crude, mock-up weapons one would be likely to find in the Games. Although a hoe was not a weapon he would encounter, they'd 'borrowed' it from a nearby farm to let Eamon get a feel for weapons of a similar nature, and he'd become extremely adaptable and comfortable with the odd balance of it.

Nott readied himself with a dulled machete, knowing he was about to be in a world of pain as was often the case nowadays when they sparred, despite being fourteen years older. Eamon twirled the hoe around in front of him and to the sides, sometimes with one hand, others with two, with his hands working the full length of the rod.

Nott struck first, cutting at his flank, but it was parried by Eamon without much effort, who followed through with a quick jab to Nott's chest with the butt of the handle. Nott faltered but recovered quickly and began attempting to disarm him. They continued on in this manner for some time until they were both ready to call it quits. Nott had easily come out of it worse, with welts on his chest, shoulder, ribs and leg. Eamon had still received a few small cuts on his arms but nothing major.

"To the glory of the Hunger Games," said Eamon sarcastically, raising his bottle of water to meet Nott's.

Nott grunted, and they started back through the woods towards home.

"I'm going to have a fun time explaining these tomorrow" he muttered, pointing to his wounds.

"Don't we always?"

"Easy for you to say, you little shit, you hardly get them anymore."

Eamon chuckled, "Yeah…about that…"

Nott looked at him not knowing what to expect but concerned at his tone.

"Well, I guess I can say it since this will be our last night training, but the kids at school always thought you were an abusive parent because I constantly came to class with bruises and scars."

Nott was stunned.

"Eamon, what the hell?!"

"I didn't say anything because I figured you'd stop our training," said Eamon, half-ashamed, half laughing. "But yeah, that's why no-one at school ever really talked to me much."

"Why didn't your teachers ever come to me about this?" Nott asked incredulously.

"Because what teacher in their right mind is going to confront a potentially abusive Nott Watson; legendary winner of the 54th Hunger Games?" Eamon said the last part almost mockingly.

"I'll be glad when all this is over tomorrow," Nott grumbled.

Eamon remembered back to the first time he saw the Hunger Games. He was ten years old, and it was every bit as horrifying as he'd been told. When he got over the initial shock of the bloodshed, and the monsters, and the fanaticism from the public of the Capitol over it all, he'd realised something. He was eligible to be conscripted into such a nightmare in just a few years. The tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 4 were overwhelmingly stronger than any of the tributes from the rest of the Districts. If he went up against them unprepared, he may as well give up then and there.

Nott – his adoptive father - informed him that those were Career tributes; kids who train their whole lives in special facilities in wealthier Districts and then volunteer when they're old enough. They do it to revel in the slaughter and bring glory to their District; the thought made Eamon sick. And so, he'd asked Nott to help him prepare in case he was ever Reaped. He'd expected Nott to say no, but Nott knew better than anyone the perils of the Games, and after a bit of planning, reluctantly consented.

"For eight years, we've been sneaking out for you to teach me everything you know. Weapons, survival skills, physical training, mental tricks, and a ton of other crap. Isn't part of you going to be pissed if I don't get picked tomorrow?"

He'd asked the question innocently enough, but with a darker motive behind it.

"Why should I?" asked Nott, clearly confused.

"Because then all that training is wasted."

"No, it is not," he replied with a slight edge to his voice. "The Games are serious business, and you were right to come to me when you did. There's still a pretty good chance you won't get picked, it's true. But someone will. I'd train every kid in the District if I could, but I can't. I didn't raise you to be a Career, I raised you to be ready. If I can show one person what everyone is in for that these bastards put us through year after year, then that is not a waste. One person can make all the difference. Do you understand?"

Eamon nodded sheepishly. Part of him felt bad; Nott wouldn't be happy with what he had decided to do tomorrow. But his mind had been made up on this for some time. He understood the danger of the Hunger Games better than ever, and yet he would act in spite of such danger.

"You'll be staying with the Skylocks again while I'm away," said Nott, catching him out of his thoughts.

"Oh, come on," cried Eamon. "I'm old enough to look after the house by myself now, surely."

"For two weeks? Like hell you are."

Nott was good friends with the Skylock family, and every year Eamon went to stay with them when Nott went off to mentor the District 9 tributes. They were incredibly nice, but in truth, Eamon was just putting on a face for Nott. He had no intention of staying with the Skylocks this year with what he had planned.

They headed through the gates of Victor's Village and inside their home. It was nothing less than a mansion, fitting only for those who had conquered the trials of the Hunger Games. Eamon was luckier than most, a kid growing up in such lavish luxury while the rest of the district regularly went hungry, and yet he was unluckier. The only reason he had such extravagance was because his parents were dead. He knew which of the two he'd rather have.


	2. A Reap of Faith

Chapter 2.

Eamon hadn't slept well. He'd spent half the night contemplating Nott's words from after training and was starting to second-guess whether or not to go through with his plan. Was it really worth it? How much did he value his own life? He knew Nott had similar troubles every year before the Games but for different reasons. It must be horrible trying to teach young kids every year in vain how to survive and deal with this kind of glorified torture, only to watch them die horribly. Eventually Eamon had tossed and turned himself into his standard, pre-Reaping nightmares.

In the morning he and Nott got dressed and headed out of Victor's Village towards the Hall of Justice in the town center. As they headed down the stone steps towards the chiselled, grey amphitheatre Eamon became just another face in the crowd, looking exactly like every other potential male tribute dressed in a plain white collared shirt and brown pants. Nott was slightly more decorated as the District 9 mentor in a dark coat and scarf, with white pants.

"Relax," said Nott, noticing Eamon's hands shaking. "It's not going to be you. And if it is, you'll be ready."

"Like you say though, someone will."  
"That's true. We've done all we can do though."  
"Yeah…" said Eamon still feeling uneasy.

Nott may have been his adoptive father, but Eamon never felt like he was a father figure. More like an older friend or a guide. He'd never been sure whether that was a good thing or not.

"Well I'm proud of you no matter what happens, okay?"

"You mean that?"  
Another question asked overly innocently.

"'Course I do," said Nott kindly. "Now go get ready. And you take care of yourself while I'm gone. Make sure to help Leslie out as much as you can."

"Assuming I don't get picked," Eamon pointed out.

If Nott heard that last remark, he certainly didn't acknowledge it. He headed on over to the stage to speak with a few of the Peacekeepers before taking his rightful position as mentor with his arms folded.

Left to his own devices, Eamon lined up single file with the rest of the children for the unnecessarily painful attendance marking. Once they'd pricked his hand he was left to head down with the other decidedly morose 18-year-old boys to sit in the front-right rows of the amphitheatre. There was no hustle and no noise, aside from the occasional blaring of the Capitol sirens and the marching of the Peacekeepers.

At just before midday with the sun overhead blotted out and overcast winds rising slightly, the heavy iron doors of the Hall of Justice creaked open and out bumbled an all-too-familiar figure. If any part of the Reaping could be considered remotely funny, it would be the sight of Vivian Goldfeather, the District 9 escort. She was an oddity, like most people of the Capitol from what Eamon had learned. As usual she was dressed in her signature striped ocean-blue dress, accentuated by an absurd number of feathers around the neckline and glittering scales down at her legs. Eamon felt like those individual elements could have made someone look somewhat attractive, but with all of them together Vivian just looked like a bizarre duck-mermaid hybrid. With a skittish look on her heavily eye-shadowed face and her neon orange hair blowing slightly in the wind, she approached the podium in a none-too-elegant manner. She coughed slightly before speaking.

"Welcome! Welcome one and all," Vivian stuttered anxiously, reading from her cards. "It is that time once again, gosh it comes around fast, doesn't it? Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

It always struck Eamon as funny that she was just as nervous as a lot of the tributes. He'd figured the Capitol would send someone a little bit more confident at public speaking, but everyone seemed to enjoy her presence. She was oddly reassuring for something so grim, he realised.

"N-Now before we begin the Capitol has a very special video to share with you all," she said pointing to the large screen above the stage.

"Yeah, so special we've seen it a thousand times before," muttered a boy behind Eamon under his breath. The boys around him sniggered, but Eamon was just impatient for it to be over with.

The screen flickered and the voice of Tobias Bishop, President of Panem echoed out over the amphitheatre. His voice was delicate, yet commanding, waxing lyrical about the benevolence of the Capitol in allowing the Districts to participate in the Hunger Games as penance for their misdeeds so very long ago. It wasn't hard for Eamon to see why the Capitol liked him so; his words were almost entrancing. He hated him for it.

"Wasn't that just wonderful?" Vivian asked overly brightly when it ended, as though expecting a rousing response.

She looked somewhat crestfallen when she didn't get one.

"So then, onto the main attraction. It is time now for us to select one valiant young male and female to represent District 9 with pride in the 68th Annual Hunger Games. As is customary, ladies first."  
Officials from the Capitol had placed two tables on either side of Vivian with a large glass bowl filled with the male and female tributes on each of them. She walked over to the one on her right and suddenly the doubt in his stomach had returned, and the insides of his mouth tasted like iron.

Her hand descended into the bowl, filtering through hundreds of entries, fishing almost hungrily for that one doomed girl.

"Ah! Slippery little one wasn't it?" she said eventually, holding up the slip of paper.

Eamon turned away, unable to watch.

"Now then, the female tribute for District 9 is…. Madeline Skylock."

Eamon blinked, sure he'd heard incorrectly. Instinctively he looked up towards the rear-left corner of the amphitheatre and others were slowly were doing the same. He felt like he'd been hit in the gut with a sledgehammer. Sure enough, Peacekeepers were having to forcibly escort the tiny, 13-year-old figure of Madeline Skylock down the aisle. The tears in her eyes betrayed the bouncing of her dirty-blonde pigtails behind her as she moved towards the stage. Eamon looked at the middle of the amphitheatre where the parents were sitting and as expected saw the face of her mother, Leslie, buried in her hands. He knew Nott was concerned, even though he hid it well. It would not do well for her mentor to appear scared.

 _Well this makes things much more straightforward_ , he thought.

"Down you come, sweetie. Don't be shy," said Vivian.

Madeline didn't say a word as she stood next to Vivian and faced the crowd. She didn't need to, her face said more than enough. Enough to make Eamon's resolve return to him.

"And now for the male tribute," she said walking over to the second glass bowl.

Once again, her hand angled through the entries for what seemed like ages, and Eamon felt like screaming at her to hurry up and get on with it.

"Aha. And the male tribute for District 9 is…. Aiden Gibly."

He and the other boys turned to look up at the rows behind them, as a short, pudgy 12-year-old was again forcibly extracted. Eamon had heard of the Gibly family but never spoken to them. All he really knew was that they had a lot of children.

 _He must have taken a lot of tesserae,_ he grimaced. _A kid like that is only good for one thing in the Games. Fodder._

This was it, now or never. Eamon stood up and walked to the end of his row just before Aiden and the Peacekeepers flanking him made it.

"Hold up," he said unusually loudly. "I'll volunteer in his place."

Several things happened at once. The peacekeepers stopped in place, completely bewildered. Vivian became so flustered she dropped her notes. The crowd went into shock, and Nott stood up so fast his chair went flying backwards. Eamon made a point not to look at him.

"I'll volunteer," he said a second time, calmer and quieter, trying to reassure himself. He looked back at Aiden and muttered, "Go on kid, find your parents and go home."

Aiden didn't need to be told twice and ran back up the aisle as fast his stubby legs would carry him, scanning the crowd frantically for his family.

"Oh my!" stuttered Vivian, who clearly was not used to surprises of this caliber. "It appears we have a volunteer! Umm…uhm…. why don't you come on down?"

Eamon crossed the floor in a few seconds to stand alongside her. He nodded at Madeline encouragingly, still refusing to look at Nott a few paces away. Her mouth was agape, and she was completely astonished by his sudden appearance.

"Well now dear, why don't you...umm…. introduce yourself? Yes, that'll do!" said Vivian.

"Eamon Cunningham," he said shortly, with all eyes on him.

"Well Mr. Cunningham, that was certainly very…. bold of you just now."

"Yeah I guess it was."

"Okay…uhm…. A man of few words, apparently. People of District 9, I give you your two tributes for the 68th Annual Hunger Games. Madeline Skylock and Eamon Cunningham. Thank you all for attending and once again, may the odds be ever in your favour, I guess!"

And with that, she ushered them past a still-stunned Nott and through the iron doors of the Hall of Justice.


	3. til Death do us Depart

Chapter 3.

Vivian split Eamon and Madeline into separate holding rooms so that they could say goodbye to loved ones. Eamon didn't expect anyone except perhaps Nott, and he wasn't even sure if Nott would come by, given how shocked and angry he appeared earlier. He armed himself in his reasons and prepared for the worst.

He waited for what felt like an eternity when the door burst open. He instantly expected it to be the Peacekeepers telling him no-one bothered to show up and for him to go straight to the train station. What he didn't expect was for Leslie Skylock to run in and fling her arms around him, sobbing frantically between words that he couldn't understand.

"Leslie!" said Eamon firmly, grabbing her shoulders. "Calm down and talk properly!"

She swallowed and took a step backwards, still rocking back and forth, "You've got to help her please…... she doesn't know how…. can't do any of this…. she's just a girl…"

For a split second, Eamon thought she might have been concerned for him. He imagined on some level she was, but not significantly enough to bring it up. Not that it overly bothered him.

"Wait!" she said suddenly, her breathing becoming very still. "Is…is that why you did it? To help Madeline? Oh please, oh please, oh please…"

"Leslie, stop. Breathe, before you pass out," he said somewhat more gently. When she was somewhat steadier, he continued. "I have to be real with you Leslie, no-one under the age of fourteen has ever won the Games. And I know this, because Nott's spent the last eight years teaching me about the Games in case I was chosen."

She flinched slightly but remained silent.

"I volunteered because I'm ready for the Games and no-one else here is, least of all Madeline, or that kid I stood in for back there. There really isn't much that I can do, but I'll do what I can. Nott and I will make sure to help her and get her ready, and I can even be her ally in the Games."

"B-B-But she'll still l-lose…" hiccupped Leslie.

Eamon sighed, "I can't make her win…. but I suppose, if it comes down to just the two of us I'll let her win."

"You can't do t-that, you need to win f-for yourself."

 _Not particularly_ , said a voice in his head. He shrugged, "I'll still do it, I promise. Just... take things a little easier on yourself."

She half-sobbed, half-giggled. At that moment, the Peacekeeper guarding the door burst in, "Okay, time's up," escorting Leslie out the door rougher than need be. She gave a last, pleading look before Eamon was once again left in silence and solitude. A minute later and the door burst open yet again harder than the last, if possible, behind him.

"You leave something in here?" he said coolly, before turning around and realising it wasn't the Peacekeeper, but Nott.

"Oh... I thought… never mind."

"Oh, you thought something did you? Well that'd be a first today, now wouldn't it?"

As Eamon expected, he was far from pleased.

"Yesterday you asked me if I'd ever consider your training a waste," Nott started heatedly. "I couldn't imagine a situation in which it would be, yet lo and behold here we are, because for the past eight years it appears I've taught you absolutely nothing!"

Eamon stood his ground. He knew Nott deserved the truth, but couldn't bring himself to say it, or at least, not all of it. "On the contrary; you've taught me everything. And that's what makes me more prepared than anybody else in the District."

"That's not a valid reason to throw your life away!" Nott shot back.

"No, it isn't, but consider this. Aiden Gibly? That kid wouldn't have stood a chance. Madeline? Now she actually stands a chance, with both my help and yours. You told me that one person can make all the difference, well, I can make all the difference for more than one person."

"So that's why you did it? For a kid you don't even know and a girl whom," and at this point Nott lowered his voice in case it carried through the building, "is probably on her deathbed anyway?"

Eamon felt his best intentions being dismantled word by word, yet still he refused to concede.

"Better me than them," he said simply.

"Eamon, I don't give a damn how ready you think you are, this is not something you just throw yourself into! The only people who do exactly that are nuts! Like, I don't get it, is there some kind of ridiculous glory you want from this?"

It was Eamon's turn to be angry.

"Do you really think I'm that conceited? Do you? I'm just tired of watching kids around me walk into the Games without a hope in the world. If there's something wrong in doing something about that, then hate me if you must. But if I can help Madeline- "

"Yeah Leslie told me about your little promise," growled Nott. "So that's it? You're going to give up your life for hers?"

"If it comes down to it yes. That girl should go home."

"'If it comes down to it'," scoffed Nott. "I agree she should go home and guess what? So should the other twenty-three kids. But the chance of that happening is slim to nil and you know it. What are you gonna do when she dies? Where is your purpose in being in the Games then? Going to give your life for some other random kid?

Eamon was sickened at how easily Nott was discarding Madeline's chances. He agreed they weren't great, but he had to wonder, did Nott secretly think this about all the other kids he sent off to the Games each year?

"Well then it's a good thing I'm trained and can handle myself then isn't it?" Eamon retorted.

Nott simply glared at him. He knew there was something Eamon wasn't telling him. He could see the answer dancing right in front of his face, but he couldn't make it out. Infuriated, he stormed out of the room, startling the Peacekeeper outside, and once again Eamon was left with nothing but his own thoughts for company.

Eamon sat down, slumped against the wall, his hands and legs shaking slightly. What little colour he'd had in his face was gone. He realised how weak his reasons must have sounded and Nott, ever the realist, had torn them to shreds with logic and truth that he simply couldn't hide from. Maybe eight years of coaching had been wasted on him after all. But he still hung on to _that_ reason. That one irrefutable, undeniable reason. He held onto it like a crying child holding to her mother's leg.

 _I need to be better than this_ , he thought. _If I'm like this when it matters, then this was all pointless, and eight years really would be a waste then._

After a few more minutes it became clear that no-one else was coming to see him off, not that he expected anyone to. Eventually, the door opened, and Vivian appeared.

"Well sweetie, I think that's that," she smiled nervously. "The train will be here any moment now and I don't believe there's anything left for us to do but skedaddle."

Eamon stood up and began to walk out alongside her. After his previous visitors, she was a surprisingly welcome sight. She opened the door opposite from his to see Madeline saying goodbye to her younger brother, who couldn't understand why she had to leave. To her credit, Vivian tried everything to get Madeline to come out without needing a Peacekeeper, but her brother struggled to let go of her. Eamon could see it took all of Madeline's effort to leave him behind.

Madeline walked out still looking scared as she had when Eamon had seen her before, but with a hint of determination in her step as she nodded at Eamon. He patted her on the shoulder reassuringly.

Together, the three of them walked through to the far side of the Hall of Justice.

"What about our bags?" asked Eamon suddenly.

"Why? Plan on coming back?" muttered a voice behind them.

It was Nott, still visibly disgruntled, but slightly calmer than before.

"There's no need for bags, darling. The Capitol will provide all for you, you'll see," answered Vivian sweetly.

The train station was located behind the Hall of Justice, surrounded by high stone walls and barbed wire that cut off District 9 from the rest of Panem. As they stepped onto the windy platform, Eamon couldn't believe what his eyes beheld. He'd never seen a train before and was completely in awe of the one pulling into the station. It must have been at least 30 carriages long, with two carriages for each district if the numbered markings on the side were anything to go by. With the polished silver glinting in the faint sunlight, the carriage marked "9" slowed to a stop right in front where they stood, and the door opened with a hiss. Eamon and Madeline took what would likely be their last look at District 9 behind them before stepping aboard.


	4. The 54th Annual Hunger Games

Chapter 4.

Landscapes of ploughed earth and desiccated spruce trees fenced off by high walls and electric wire rolled past the windows of the train as Madeline looked out, as she had done for the previous half an hour since setting off. Eamon looked on, troubled. She almost seemed to expect the train to turn around and head back towards District 9 at any moment.

Eamon was shaken out of his thoughts by the clang of a silver platter dropping onto the table behind them.

"Macarons!" cried Vivian excitedly. "My favourite. You two eat something already, you look dead on your feet."

 _Brilliant choice of words_ , thought Eamon.

The train was expected to take little less than a full day to pick up the tributes from the remaining Districts, before arriving at the Capitol. More than enough time to take in the ridiculous indulgences of the train car. Eamon looked over at Nott, who was lying on the magenta-coloured lounge in front of the TV. He coughed to get his attention and Nott looked up at him, still with the irritable demeanour he had when they had left. Eamon jerked his head in Madeline's direction and Nott sighed, his expression softening slightly.

Nott walked over to Madeline and knelt beside her talking in a low voice that Eamon couldn't overhear. Whilst he was doing that, Eamon turned back to Vivian, taking one of the sweets she was offering more out of politeness than anything.

"So, what's our schedule for all of this?" he asked.

"Schedule?" she frowned.

"Yeah. You know, when we arrive in the Capitol, the Tribute Parade, the training, and all that."

"Oh. So sorry, most tributes don't generally ask those kinds of questions straight away. They're more like…" she trailed off, gesturing at Madeline, who was still talking to Nott in hushed whispers.

"Anyway," she carried on. "You'll get your measurements taken for the Tribute parade shortly. We'll arrive at the Capitol shortly after breakfast tomorrow morning, which gives us enough time to get settled in the Tribute Center before the big parade later that night. Umm…. what happens next? Oh, of course! Silly Viv. You'll get three days of training and at the end of that you'll be scored on your abilities, before having the traditional night-before interview with the ever-lovely Florence Whittaker. I'm a big fan of hers," she finished, stammering slightly.

"And… then the Games, right?"

"Oh, yes of course," as if she'd momentarily forgotten about that small detail in her admiration of Florence Whittaker.

He took a bite of the sunshine-coloured biscuit. As expected it was delicious, if overly sweet for his tastes. At that moment, Nott and Madeline walked over and it was clear he'd done something right.

"Alright, let's get down to business," began Nott brusquely, rubbing his hands together. "I've been teaching Eamon everything I know about the Games for years, so together we're going to focus all our efforts on getting you up to speed. He's even agreed to be your ally for all of this."

Eamon nodded, happy that on some level, Nott was able to cooperate with him on this. "First things first Madeline, what do you know about the Hunger Games?"

"Just that twenty-four kids go kill each other in an arena and that one survives," she mumbled.

Nott chuckled slightly, "Well that's basically the gist of it. But there are many other subtleties to the games, and those ultimately matter just as much as whether you can fight well. Things like attracting sponsors, planning two to three steps ahead of your opponents, the sorts of hazards you're likely to find in the arena, and so on. We'll get to all of that later, but for right now I think it'll be easier that I just show you rather than tell you."

He pulled a bedazzled disc cover out from his coat pocket and Eamon instantly knew where he was going with this. In shining gold letters, the disc read, "REVIEW OF THE 54TH ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES" with a faded-out picture of a younger Nott Watson's face just below.

"Now, Eamon's watched this about a thousand times. I haven't watched it once, and I don't intend to change that today."

He put the disc into the side of the TV before heading into the other carriage where all their separate bedrooms and bathroom were located. Vivian busied herself over getting them some drinks from the bar, leaving Eamon and Madeline on the lounge to play the video.

"You're going to want to look away, I know," he said to her. "My advice: don't. You need to see what it is you're up against."

"Why would you watch this so many times?" she asked abruptly. She'd known Eamon for years and looked up to him in a way. He never seemed the kind of person who'd enjoy something like this.

Eamon shrugged, "Hints and strategies mostly."

"But there's... tonnes of death and stuff, right? How do you get past that?"

"Yeah it doesn't get any easier, I'll admit. But you have to realise nothing about what we're in is easy. Or fair for that matter."

The screen lit up with the same promotional video they'd seen in the Reaping. Even though it was fourteen years ago, President Bishop's voice rang out exactly the same to his present-day voice it was uncanny.

"I think we can skip this bit," said Eamon fast-forwarding through.

He jumped forward to the Reaping, showing the tributes from all 12 Districts. The dirty-blonde haired boy from District 9, oddly enough, showed no emotion whatsoever at being Reaped, but it was clear that the gears inside his head were running at peak efficiency.

The video then jumped to the Tribute Parade.

"What… what am I looking at?" asked a puzzled Madeline.

"This is the Tribute Parade," explained Eamon. "Stylists dress each pair of tributes up in outlandish outfits designed to represent their District and parade us through the main boulevard of the Capitol. It's the first chance for sponsors - people who help us in the Games - to see the Tributes."

Eamon felt it was a big stretch however to associate District 9 with the bizarre tribal garments that Nott and his female counterpart were sporting.

"That sounds disgusting."

"Oh incredibly. They're pigs in the Capitol."

Eamon was glad Vivian hadn't overheard that.

"Umm…. what on Earth is Nott doing?" asked Madeline suddenly.

 _She asks a lot of questions. Good sign_ , he thought.

Unlike the rest of the tributes who were simply smiling and waving in their chariots, Nott had jumped over the front bar of his own and was sat perched on the edge precariously, dangling his feet over the front with a playfully innocent expression.

"He's attracting attention and doing a damn good job of it."

Eamon was right; fingers pointed and gasps from all around the eccentric crowd were focused on Nott. It even elicited a curious look from an otherwise normally stoic President Bishop as they moved past the Presidential Booth at the end of the boulevard.

"So, does everyone do stuff like that? Most of the other tributes were just waving and looking sad," asked Madeline.

Vivian answered instead, waltzing over to place two tall glasses of sparkling water in front of them.

"People have tried my dear, but alas, nowadays tributes don't really go for that anymore. It's a risky strategy, you see."

"How so?"

"Well believe it or not, our dear friend Nott was the first tribute to attempt such… theatrics with the Capitol public. Because no-one had ever seen such a thing, unsurprisingly he garnered a lot of favour with sponsors. Naturally, tributes in following years attempted similar stunts; sometimes they worked fabulously and sometimes they had the opposite effect, dissuading sponsors."

Eamon anticipated Madeline's next question just as she'd opened her mouth, "Sponsors are fickle. Trying to predict their tastes is like trying to predict the weather."

He made an effort to avoid generalising the entire public of the Capitol in front of Vivian. Despite this, she still flinched.

"I wouldn't put it quite so crudely, but yes, Eamon is somewhat accurate in his assessment. Hence why tributes don't do it anymore and why I don't recommend either of you attempting such actions."

The video then sped through a quick montage of the tributes training, before receiving their scores.

Madeline couldn't help but notice six of the stronger, more confident tributes spending an awful lot of time together, "They're from Districts 1, 2 and 4, aren't they?"

"Yup. Good spot. They're Career tributes. They train their whole lives and then volunteer, vying for fame and fortune by winning the Games. They band together with skill and numbers to overwhelm the rest of the Tributes before turning on each other. That's how they win most years. I've been training with Nott for so long just to be ready for them. To figure out how to break them."

"Doesn't that make you a Career tribute as well, then?"

Eamon was very taken aback by this. He'd never really considered what he'd been doing for years comparable to that of the other Careers.

"I... well, I mean… it's similar… but not quite…"

He was rescued from his stammering by the sight on Nott receiving a training score of 9 out of a possible 12.

"That kind of score puts him pretty much on par with the Careers."

Eamon always wondered how Nott knew to do what he did. Where did he get the experience, the knowledge, the ideas? He'd asked several times but could seemingly never get a straight answer. Finally, the video faded to white.

"Time for the main event."

"Aren't the night-before interviews on this disc?" piped up Vivian.

"No, unfortunately. It's a shame, I always wanted to see how he handled those. Could've been helpful."

"I think it's best that you don't know," said Vivian clearly blushing, despite her heavy makeup. "Nott had a certain… controversial charisma, let's just put it that way."

Both Eamon and Madeline looked at her curiously, trying to deduce what she meant. But at that moment, the video opened onto the 54th Annual Hunger Games.

Strange lights twinkled through a white mist that blanketed the ground and trees. Twenty-four tributes in thickly padded snowsuits stood in a semi-circle around… a large gingerbread house? Festively decorated pine trees were scattered every which way beyond the Cornucopia and the outlines of white-capped mountains were barely visible on the horizon through the heavy sheet of winter. A small village of cosy looking houses adorned with tinsel and candy canes lay to the south-west, a large frozen lake to the north-west, and a field of happy-looking snowmen to the south-east.

A large neon countdown hung above the Cornucopia with an assortment of silver weapons, backpacks, crates, and tools scattered around and inside the sweet-looking structure. Madeline tensed up as the countdown reached 10 seconds remaining.

A siren blared, and the tributes jumped off their pedestals, with most making their way towards the Cornucopia. Several slipped on the frost-covered ground and by the time they could recover, the rest had made it to the cache of supplies. The Careers played their hand well in efficiently securing the majority of the Cornucopia's supplies before proceeding to slaughter the stragglers. One by one, children collapsed under their might, staining the snow scarlet. Cannons sounded, and a voice boomed over the arena to signify the death of each one. In the onslaught and pandemonium, Nott had acquired a heavy-looking, double-sided axe and a backpack before sprinting to the north-east. One of the male Careers was killed by a girl from District 10, whom the rest of the group set about hunting after when the chaos subsided. Bodies littered the ground around the Cornucopia and the substance decorating it could have easily been mistaken for raspberry jam.

Ten of the tributes died in the Bloodbath and another five by nightfall including, some of whom died from basic lack of shelter and warmth. After tracking and killing the District 10 girl, the Careers attempted to regroup back at the Cornucopia but found its protection against the elements to be inadequate. They gathered what they could of their supplies and headed south, to the village they had chased the girl to earlier.

One boy had found himself lost in the field of snowmen and when the moon rose, the wind roared, and visibility became all the worse. But that was far from his biggest problem.

"Wait… what the hell is that?!" whispered a terrified Madeline.

Her voice startled Eamon, as she'd been watching the video in almost a trance-like state the entire time. As it was, despite watching the Games many times, this scene never failed to put Eamon on edge.

Unseen through the white night, several of the snowmen were no longer standing in the positions they were seemingly anchored to. In fact, they were noticeably closer to the boy, but just as innocuous. A few seconds passed and again, the snowmen were just feet away, despite not appearing to be mobile. A blanket of snow swept across the screen and a bloodcurdling scream pierced the night. When it returned to normal, the boy was lying in a pool of his blood, his voice gurgling; his throat had been ripped out. The snowmen were once again in their original positions, looking happy as ever, but the gumdrops that made up their mouths had all mysteriously turned red.

"Frostbytes," explained Eamon shakily. "Every Games there are one or two varieties of genetically mutated monstrosities designed to kill us in the most horrifying ways imaginable. Frostbytes were the mutations used that year."

Madeline's face had turned the colour of snow.

Nott, in the meantime, had headed to the pine forest, and had used his axe well. He felled trees and piled them together to protect him from the wind and eyes of other tributes, as well as making a fire. He helped himself to some food delivered by several sponsors already before setting about making a trap. He removed a string of the festive lights decorating a nearby tree, before taking his axe to a nearby circle of trees. He cut about three quarters of the way through the trunks so that they were only just still standing. He then punctured each one of the lights so that they would no longer glow and tied the rope around and through each of the gouges in the trees, before covering up the marks of his creation with snow. He then lie in wait, holding the end of the rope tightly.

His patience was rewarded eventually when the District 8 male innocently wandered into his web. Pulling on the rope as tightly as possible, the trees made a resounding crack, falling and crushing the boy with no hope of escape. Nott lifted the rolled the heavy pine trunk over to see the boy's mangled body, taking any supplies he had before respectfully closing his eyes.

Meanwhile in the village, several timed explosions had gone off from colourfully wrapped gifts, killing one of the Careers and two other tributes nearby. By the end of the second day, only five tributes remained: Nott and the four-strong Career pack, who had resorted to the safer yet much less elementally-friendly shelter of the Cornucopia, hoping for Nott to die naturally before they turned on each other.

Nott had far from given up however, and was over by the frozen lake, thoroughly testing out the thickness of the ice. It was barely thick enough to stand on. After an hour of investigating, he left for the Cornucopia satisfied. When he got back to within sight of the gingerbread structure, the Careers spotted him, and with a shout immediately set after him. With enough of a head start, Nott pretended to be stumbling, afraid and dragging his axe behind as though he was fatigued; he was very convincing.

One Career fired off an arrow, but the harsh gust blew it several meters to the right. If they wanted him dead, they'd have to get up close and personal. Nott made it to the back to the lake, making sure not to lose his balance on the frosty footing. He still dragged his axe behind him as he ran, with the cracking of the ice barely audible over the wind. As he got further out, he would occasionally slightly lift the axe before dropping it with a thud. The Career pack hesitated before chasing him onto the ice, unaware of the fractured surface he'd left behind.

Almost at the other side, he heard the tell-tale sound in the distance behind him. Securing his footing on solid land, he looked back and recoiled. Unable to take the weight of all four of them, a large hole in the ice had formed underneath them, plunging them into the arctic waters. Like rats they scrabbled over one another, not caring who died so long as they had an extra chance. But they were a long way from shore with the ice offering no purchase. Nott looked on sadly from afar as they all slowly died from extreme hypothermia, before being crowned the winner of the 54th Hunger Games.

Eamon turned the TV off and looked at Madeline.

"So, what do you think?"


	5. Two by Two

Chapter 5.

The sky was on fire and the clouds were its billowing smoke, such was the impression the sun gave as it dipped below the horizon. The beat of drums made the air pulse and vibrate, and the energy of the crowd was so palpable you could practically hear their blood dancing as it coursed through their veins.

Blair Lynch absent-mindedly fingered the polished wood of the moon-shaped locket around her neck in anticipation. She tossed her long, dark hair out of her jade-green eyes once again; whether out of excitement or nervousness she wasn't quite sure. Her entire life had led up to this moment, as it had for those few around her. She'd heard tell of kids who had trained their whole lives only to miss out. They weren't sure what to do with themselves after, having lost their purpose. Some, ironically, had even resorted to taking their own lives.

She wished she hadn't had to wait all day; the build-up had been excruciating. She understood why of course, most of the other Districts had to have their Reapings before them but knowing that didn't make it any easier. It didn't help that everyone was taking what felt like an eternity to sit down and get organised. If they didn't hurry up, she'd probably lose it.

Once the fanfare and festivities had died down and everyone had taken their seats, the doors to the Hall of Justice opened and out poured the usual entourage of Capitol officials. As expected, the one they all really wanted to see was saved until last.

A dark-skinned man with a simple black shirt and silver vest burst out of the doorway in spectacular fashion, dancing all the way to the podium seemingly to some catchy tune that only he could hear. The crowd went wild, as if he were some kind of rock star.

"What's goooooooood District Two?! How y'all doing tonight?!" yelled Maurice Sinclair, raising his arms up and outwards.

Blair allowed herself a grin and clapped along with the rest of the audience. The District Two escort had a way of geeing up people like nobody else could. One of the girls beside her shouted out an all-too-common marriage proposal that made her roll her eyes.

"Alright, alright, alright, let's everybody simmer down here real quick, shall we?" At once, the crowd went quiet. "Man, I tell you what, it has been far too long since I've been out here. I really missed all of y'all. Did y'all miss me?"

As expected the crowd exploded a second time.

"Okay, Imma take that as a resounding 'yes'," he laughed. "You guys are something sweet, you know that? But here and now we are back, ladies and gentlemen, for the 68th Annual Hunger Games!"

Once again, the crowd went ballistic.

 _He could read the phone book and this lot would lose their shit_ , laughed Blair to herself.

"Alrighty then well without further ado, let's welcome our adorable but deadly little volunteers up here on stage with me, hmm?" clapped Maurice.

To rousing applause, Blair led the two other girls and the four boys behind them single-file towards the stage. She couldn't believe that in most other Districts, they had no volunteers. Or that people didn't want to be Reaped. That everyone was a potential tribute. It was baffling. Because District Two had an abundance of volunteers, tributes were only selected from those volunteers. Generally, the only ones who volunteered were 17 or 18 years old and had trained long and hard at the academy. At the age of 18, this was Blair's last chance.

The girls lined up on one side of the stage and the boys on the other.

"Now first things first, my boy President Bishop has some special words for all of you lovely folks here tonight."

The screens to the side of the stage flickered to reveal the same old war video they'd seen time and time again in previous years. It made up the only part of the Reaping that disinterested Blair. She wasn't interested in why they were supposedly being punished for the rebellious actions of the Districts decades ago; she just wanted to compete. The crowd appeared to lap it up however, which seemed mildly masochistic to her. The video faded, and everyone applauded.

"That President Bishop, always has a way with words, doesn't he?" smiled Maurice. "And now, let's get on with the Reaping, what say you? Good luck volunteers, and once again, may the odds be ever in your favour. We'll start with the ladies, as per usual."

At that moment a minor doubt started to creep unbidden into Blair's mind, as it so often had. Part of this seemed wrong, like she shouldn't be there. Such moments of weakness had occasionally come to her over the years, but she was always encouraged by everyone else that yes, training for the Games was a great thing to do, a tremendous privilege she should be proud of. Still, it was a feeling she'd never quite shaken off, no matter how hard she tried.

Maurice's hand drifted over the oversized glass bowl containing the paltry three slips of paper. Blair's hand once again drifted to the locket instinctively.

"Alrighty then," said Maurice slowly. "The female tribute from District Two for this, the 68th Annual Hunger Games is... Blair Lynch!"

Blair allowed herself to breathe finally as the crowd cheered. The two girls next to her hung their heads in dismay as she went to stand over next to Maurice. He shook her hand excitedly as she looked out over the crowd scanning for that one person that really mattered. She spotted him bound to his metal frame and beaming at her. She grinned and nodded, before Maurice called for quiet again.

"And now for the gentlemen."

His hand skimmed the four entries of the glass bowl. This concerned Blair; whoever was drawn would likely be her ally in the Games and her skin crawled slightly as she looked at the male volunteers.

"The male tribute from District Two for this, the 68th Annual Hunger Games is… Landon Starr!"

 _Of course, it is. Just my fucking luck_ , thought Blair angrily.

The hulking figure of Landon Starr beat his chest proudly as he moved over. He wasn't particularly tall, but his figure was thick and muscly, and his short, brown, curled hair swayed slightly in the breeze. What unnerved Blair most about him was the slightly crazed look in his eyes, which complimented everything she'd ever seen and heard about him at the academy. Namely that he was completely unhinged. But still, she felt better to have him on her side than off it.

Landon shook Maurice's hand firmly before standing next to Blair.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you your two tributes for this year's Hunger Games – Blair Lynch and Landon Starr! Let's hear it for them!"

The crowd whistled and whooped, and the drums began to beat once more as multi-coloured lights lit up the sky. Landon leaned in Blair's ear.

"Best of luck to you. May the odds be ever in your favour indeed," came his gravelly voice in an undertone.

"And to you," Blair muttered back politely.

"Well, I don't really need it now, do I?"

She ignored that remark, but he continued to prod.

"Must be hard for you," he chuckled confidently.

"How's that?" she said, refusing to look at him.

"I mean, you obviously want to bring glory to the District, that's why any of us do this, right? It's just piss poor luck for you to get Reaped in the same year as me."

"Do you really think that highly of yourself?" She was starting to get annoyed.

"Just facing facts, that's all. I mean look at all these people," he said smugly, gesturing at the horde of adoring public. "They're like animals. They'll say they cheer for both of us equally but really, they're cheering for the one with the best chance."

"Why would you want to bring glory to such animals?"

He shrugged, "Give them an inch and they'll give you a mile. Give them a mile and they'll give you everything."

"You do realise we're meant to be allies, right? You're not exactly lending yourself to a great start here, guy."

"Hey, I'm just saying don't hold me back, that's all."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

At that moment, Maurice brought the ceremony to a close.

"Unfortunately, all you lovely peeps, I know our time together has been short, but we," he pointed to Blair and Landon, "must be off. Of course, if the family would like to come say their farewells beforehand then by all means feel free to do so. Until next time, stay beautiful District Two!"


	6. Getting Cosy in the Capitol

Chapter 6.

"Attention all tributes, staff, and esteemed guests, we are now arriving at Capitol Central Station. We hope you enjoy your stay here and may the odds be ever in your favour. Please mind your step as you disembark," echoed a voice over the train's loudspeaker.

Eamon and Madeline hardly heard the announcement as they stared wide-eyed out the window of the train. Waiting for them on the enormous station platform – large enough for all 24 carriages the tributes would exit from – was a mad-packed throng of unfashionable oddities the likes of which the pair of them could have scarcely imagined in their most bizarre dreams. Eamon had trained and studied for the Games hard most of his life, but he was still just an 18-year-old boy, and there were some things all the preparation in the world couldn't ready him for.

"Bet you didn't know you already had fan clubs, huh?" smirked Nott. "Well don't sit there gaping at them like a pair of gargoyles you two, give 'em something."

The door opened with Vivian taking the lead and Nott following behind. Eamon put one hand on Madeline's shoulder behind her. During their stay here, he refused to allow her out of his or Nott's sight.

An explosion of noise and colour greeted them as they stepped onto the platform. Hoots rang out, cameras shuttered, and flags waved furiously. Eamon looked to his sides and groups of children, mentors and escorts were also stepping off the train just like them, and suddenly the realisation hit him that he was just one in twenty-four and that there would be plenty others just like he and Madeline. Some revelled in it, many were on the verge of tears, others appeared totally indifferent.

"Come now you two don't be shy," called Vivian back to them, snapping Eamon out of his thoughts.

They pressed on through the path that split the crowd towards a grand staircase. Madeline looked at most of the crowd like they had plague but was strong enough to manage a shaky smile and the occasional wave. A girl who looked more like a birthday clown than an actual person pressed for Eamon to shake her hand as he walked past. He balked slightly, before reluctantly taking her hand in his own.

 _If I survive this, I'm amputating that hand_ , he grimaced.

Eamon suddenly realised he was getting a lot more attention than those of the other Districts, only matched by those of the Career Districts further down the station.

"Hey Nott," he whispered back, "Why are so many people staring at me?"

"You're kidding, right?" Nott looked at him surprised. "There hasn't been a volunteer from District 9 since before you were born! You might not think it, but there's long-time fans of each individual District, rooting more for their success than the actual tributes. Everyone's more than likely a bit hopeful for District 9 to have another champion."

"And it didn't occur for you to tell me any of this in the past eight years?"

"You're gonna learn new stuff while you're here, mate. Stuff I couldn't have taught you before. Best get to grips with that quick smart or get left behind."

Alongside the other tributes, they headed up the staircase and into the blinding sunlight. Even Eamon was agape at what he saw. He'd seen it all on TV before, but this was something else entirely. Towers all around that looked more like spaceships than actual structures. Breathtaking fountains sculpted into shapes and patterns he could barely conceive, shooting forth the most brilliant baby blue water. Gardens displaying dazzling arrangements of orchids, and cherry blossoms whose coral-coloured glory lit up the sky and the ground around them.

"Very impressive isn't it?" smiled Vivian, noticing the two of them entranced.

"That's one word for it," said Madeline quietly. Eamon had noticed a change in Madeline ever since he had shown her Nott's Games. It had undoubtedly shaken her to the core, but perhaps that was for the best. She seemed to have a steely glint in her eyes that wasn't there before, and her words took on a firmer tone that he had rarely, if ever, seen back in District 9.

They stood in the shadow of the most gargantuan structure Eamon had ever seen. Other, similarly large skyscrapers surrounded but none so big as the Tribute Center he stared up at now. At least twelve stories tall (which he supposed made sense), it was draped in banners of red and gold adorned with the crest of the Capitol. Somewhere within that monumental mountain of marble and tinted glass were the apartments they would stay in, the training center and the boulevard located behind it used for the Tribute Parade.

As they waited for Districts 1 through 8 to head inside, Eamon tried to spot the Career tributes so that he could get to work on figuring them out, but to no avail. Eventually they entered the air-cooled foyer, leaving behind the irksome fanfare of the Capitol's public.

"Ah Vivian my dear, how are you?" said the handsome receptionist joyfully as they approached the front desk.

"Well you know, same old," reverting back to her familiar nervous persona. "Just us four if you please, Osman."

"Here you are," Osman handed her a card key. "Fingle is already up there waiting for you."

"Ah excellent. Let's not keep him waiting any longer then you three. He's a busy man."

Utterly bewildered by everything, they joined Vivian in the lift and headed up towards the ninth floor. For the third time that morning, Eamon's mouth hit the floor. To call their apartments lavish was an understatement. He'd been used to a certain degree of luxury, having lived in Victor's Village most of his life, but this was simply another level. The princely white tiled floor was polished to the extent that it was almost blinding. The walls and furniture were styled from many exotic and unknown materials and shaped so intricately it was difficult to follow their contours.

The magnificent view of the Capitol skyline however, was blocked by the portly figure of a middle-aged man with a receding hairline dressed in a simple black suit and tie, with a burgundy-coloured scarf around his neck.

"Oho!" he cried jovially, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "How good it is to meet you all finally! Vivian, my dear lovely to see you as ever," he walked over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Friends, you may call me Fingle," he beamed. "I am to be your District Stylist for these Games and believe you me, the honour is all mine. This will actually be my first time as a Stylist for the Games but fret not! For that does not mean I am lacking in experience, oh no! I am simply keener to make an impression and if I am keen to make an impression, I guarantee you will most certainly make one!"

He bowed low and deeply before Eamon, "You must be young Master Eamon, my dear boy, I've heard so much about you. Absolutely spiffing, your Reaping was, truly! A look of determination that could turn the lordliest of lions lily-livered, I daresay."

Eamon had an insane urge to laugh and fall over.

Fingle flashed a brilliant smile at Madeline, "And you my dear, must be Miss Madeline. Oh my goodness, you look even more ravishing in person. It is a privilege, I assure you my lady," he said poshly, getting on one knee to kiss her hand. For the first time since Eamon had seen her at the Reaping, Madeline giggled.

"And Master Nott, incredible to meet you at last, tales of your trap-filled triumphs are legendary in my line of work."

"Let me guess, Zared's gone on gardening leave?" asked Nott, shaking his hand.

"Ah," said Fingle, looking uncomfortable for the first time. "I'm not currently at liberty to discuss the circumstances of my predecessor's absence. But for the sake of explanations let us go with yours and say that yes, Zared has gone on 'gardening leave'."

Nott looked at Eamon. They both had an idea of what 'gardening leave' would have consisted of for the previous District 9 Stylist. In the previous year's Games, the costumes for the District 9 tributes at the Tribute Parade had the words "WHO CARES? THEY'RE DOOMED ANYWAY" written in bold, red letters on them. Naturally, it was off-putting for a lot of sponsors, and the tributes both broke down into tears halfway through the parade. Yet somehow, they each received a relatively expensive sponsorship gift throughout the Games and Eamon remembered wondering if Ambrose LaFleur – the Head Gamemaker – had sent them by way of an apology.

Keen to move on, Fingle gestured towards two pretty girls standing in the hallway that Eamon had failed to notice until that point, "Meet Sylvia and Alexis, they will be your prep team for the duration, so that you can look your very best for tonight's Tribute Parade and of course, the pre-game interviews. Now, although I've had your outfits for tonight ready for some time, I've had to work overtime tailoring them as I only got your measurements yesterday. So, I simply must get back to work. I just wanted to come and meet you all, a venture that I can safely say was most worth it. So, I bid you farewell until tonight of course. Sirs, my lady," he inclined his head towards Madeline, who giggled again.

Once he'd departed, Alexis stepped forward, "So hi guys, it's nice to meet you" she said sweetly, causing Eamon to blush slightly. "We've got a long time before the Tribute Parade and you guys have probably had a really long couple of days, so if you just want to take some time to settle in, that's cool."

She called out into the kitchen and two people in blood-red suits, with their faces covered in red makeup and eyeshadow came running.

"These are your Avoxes, they're happy to attend to any needs you may have whilst you're here."

 _They don't look very happy_ , thought Eamon sadly. Nott had never liked to talk about Avoxes, but what he had told Eamon was bad enough. Essentially, they were slaves with their tongues cut out for prior misdeeds. Nott flinched slightly at the sight of them.

"Also, there's spare clothes in your rooms just down the hall and a shower at the end," she nodded to Eamon and Madeline.

"Oh, thank god," said Madeline, hurrying to her room without a second thought.

 _Well she is still just a girl at the end of the day_ , laughed Eamon to himself.

He had to admit it was a relief to get out of the same stuffy clothes they'd been wearing since the Reaping yesterday, even if it was just into a t-shirt and jeans. But he had neither the time nor the inclination to indulge in the comforts of the apartment.

"Alright, time to get to work," he said to Nott and Vivian, who were enjoying some unknown, exotic drinks in the kitchen. Nott rolled his eyes while Vivian just looked confused. "Viv, would you happen to have a list of the tributes for this years' Games?"

"Umm… y-yes," she stammered, clearly unsure of where he was going with this. "Escorts were sent a digital list to our personal organisers last night. Why do you ask?"

"Because… I want to see it?" said Eamon slowly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Umm… of c-course. I'll go get it," she mumbled, looking at him like he was from another planet. She wasn't the only one, Sylvia and Alexis looked up at him from the corner of the room with a curious expression.

"Take a breather mate," said Nott. "You're going to run out of steam if you work yourself too hard."

"If I survive I can take all the breathers in the world."

"Yeah, if you survive."

Nott and Eamon looked at each other, with the rest of the argument playing out unspoken. They were saved any more awkwardness when Vivian came back into the room.

"I'll just put it up on the TV, how's that sound?" she said, with them following her into the living room as Madeline re-joined them, confused as to what was going on.

Vivian scanned her odd-looking tablet over a device attached to the oversized TV in the living room. Eamon took the remote control as the pictures of twenty-four children at their Reapings separated into twelve rows of two came up on screen. He instantly recognised his own and Madeline's as well as one or two from the train station. He fixated on the pair from District 1.

A 17-year-old girl with olive skin and platinum hair came into focus. The tag below her face read the name 'Jasmine Wilde'. Alongside her was a lanky-looking, 18-year-old boy with braces and a face that looked like that of a camel. His tag read 'Axel Costa'. Eamon moved on to District 2.

A pretty, 18-year-old girl with long, dark hair, faded green eyes, and a moon-shaped locket around her neck appeared on screen. Her name was 'Blair Lynch'. Next to her was a muscular 18-year-old boy with short, curly hair and a look in his eyes that disturbed Eamon slightly. His name read 'Landon Starr'. Eamon confused everyone (except Nott) by skipping District 3 entirely and moving onto District 4.

A picture of a tall, fit, 16-year-old girl with brown hair in a ponytail and tattoos of waves along the length of her arms came up. Her name was 'Hilda Blythe'. The 17-year-old boy alongside her looked very much like Eamon, surprisingly. If perhaps an inch taller and wearing a shark tooth bracelet on his left wrist. His name read 'Dennis Kessling'.

Eamon put the remote down on the lounge for a moment, inscribing the names and faces of the six children he'd just seen on the inside of his brain. He didn't know any of them; who their families were, what they liked, what they disliked, but none of that mattered. When he finally spoke, he uttered the one thing he knew about them.

"These are my enemies."

 **AUTHOR'S NOTES**

\- - **If you're having trouble imagining what some of these characters look like, then know that I liken some (but not all) of their appearances to real-life actors or celebrities. For instance, in my mind President Bishop looks and sounds like Hugo Weaving. Nott looks like Josh Holloway, and Fingle looks like Hans Zimmer.**

\- **I'd like to thank you for taking the time to reading and reviewing this story. It really means a lot!**


	7. The Grain Duke and Duchess

Chapter 7.

"What in the name of Panem is taking him so long?" snapped a particularly panicked Vivian.

She was pacing back and forth in front of the window as the sun had set, but with the streets and buildings awash in the neon city below, the sky was still pseudo-daylight. The din of bustling people, vehicles and machines was still audible even from the District 9 floor of the Tribute Center.

"Chill Viv, I'm sure it'll be fine," said a particularly untroubled Nott.

"Fine?! It's twenty minutes until the start of the Tribute Parade and their outfits aren't here yet!" she blustered, gesturing at Eamon and Madeline who were each having their hair done by Alexis and Sylvia.

"It's not much of a contingency, but I'll go commando if it's absolutely necessary," sniggered Eamon. Behind him, Alexis tittered, messing up the piece of hair she'd just spent five minutes trying to keep flat.

Madeline laughed. "Seriously Viv, if push comes to shove we'll just wear what we have."

Vivian eyes almost popped out of her head.

"It'd make an ironic statement," chuckled Nott, who was clearly getting a kick out of watching Vivian's plight, "Stand out the most by wearing boring, day-to-day clothes."

"Can't say I fancy dressing up as a breadstick myself, personally," said Madeline.

"Oh please," said Sylvia rolling her eyes, "You guys _have_ to have more faith in Fingle. He's not going to put you in some stupid papercraft project like the other District Stylists. I've seen them and trust me, you're going to look divine."

"I'd have a lot more faith in him if he were here already," grumbled Vivian.

"If who were here, exactly?" said a familiar voice from the doorway.

The portly figure of Fingle, resplendent in a scarlet shirt and black vest, was almost impossible to make out from behind the large, portable wardrobe he was pushing into the apartment living room.

"We should be downstairs already," Vivian said to him.

"Apologies my dear, but perfection simply cannot be rushed. Well I mean it can, but it shouldn't. I take it you ladies are done?" he addressed Sylvia and Alexis.

"Yeah, they should be fine," said Alexis, allowing Eamon and Madeline to stand up.

"Excellent, excellent. Well young Miss Madeline, young Master Eamon, I do hope you are satisfied with what I've made for you," he said, wringing his hands together nervously and excitedly.

He opened the two compartments of the wardrobe and Eamon's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. The outfits certainly weren't what he expected. His consisted of a tan-coloured tunic, with a large, gold stalk of grain embroidered on the back. A bronze sash and belt accompanied it, along with a pair of white leggings lined with gold stripes, and a pair of simple, black leather shoes polished so fine Eamon could see his reflection in them.

Madeline was similarly stunned. Hers was a simple, but magnificent knee-length dress coloured similarly to Eamon's outfit. It featured a motif of grain stalks woven into such intricate patterns they almost looked like flowers. The shoes were simple; flat, golden, adorned with a small bow and easy enough for a 13-year-old girl to slip into without concern.

"I'll take your stunned silence as a yes, then?"

"It's a hell of a lot better than I expected," mumbled Eamon.

"Yeah, even I've gotta agree with that," nodded Nott in approval. "Nicer than anything I've seen for our District since becoming mentor."

Fingle bowed deeply, his eyes sparkling with tears of happiness, "Oh happy days! Now go! Go put them on, we have to be downstairs post-haste!"

The outfits weren't quite as fiddly as Eamon had imagined, although he did require Alexis' help in adjusting the sash to the right length over his shoulder. He had to admit, he looked nothing short of princely. Madeline looked unquestioningly like a princess; not the sort of princesses she'd heard about in fairy tales but a proper princess, elegant and refined. Which she thought was impressive, considering her age and stature. Vivian almost fainted when the pair of them walked back into the living room.

"Oh marvellous! How perfectly they fit, what a relief!" cried Fingle. "But they're not complete yet, I have one more thing for both of you."

He extricated two small, metallic boxes from the wardrobe and handed one each to Eamon and Madeline. Eamon unclasped his and gasped. Sitting gently on the silk wrappings inside was an ornate bronze circlet, with a very fine stalk of grain winding its way around the length of it. It was the most remarkable piece of jewellery Eamon had ever seen. At least, until he saw Madeline's. In her hands was a delicate, silver tiara. The shape of it flowed much like the patterns on her dress and it was adorned with a gemstone unlike any he'd ever seen; he almost felt like he could see the depths of the cosmos twinkling and shifting within. It had captured everyone's attention, and they were all somewhat startled when Fingle spoke up to comment on it.

"Ah, I see you've all taken note of the fire opal! An incredibly rare find, not found anywhere in Panem, no sir! I won't go into the details of how I acquired it, but I've been saving it for a special occasion for many a year, and I don't think they get any more special than your first Hunger Games. The grain duke and duchess you two shall be, I think the visual pun speaks for itself."

"T-Thank you, Fingle…" whispered Madeline.

"My dear, you are too kind," he said, dropping his voice to speak somewhat more seriously. "I know that neither of you two wishes to find yourself in these Games. Truly, I do understand. I refuse to pull any punches, because I know what it will mean for you if I do. I refuse to fail you."

Surprisingly, he then gave both Eamon and Madeline a very long hug, before adjusting the circlet and tiara upon both of their heads.

"Now let us be off then, hmm?"

The seven of them headed down the elevator and when they emerged, the receptionist was so mesmerised by Eamon and Madeline's appearance that for several moments forgot to direct them to the back of the building that lead out to the Tribute Parade. A large neon-lit hub connected the Tribute Center to the Tribute Parade boulevard. Just another thing that Eamon had seen and studied countless times on television yet was much more grandiose in reality.

Vividly outfitted Stylists were running around frantically, trying to make last-minute alterations and finishing touches for their tributes. Beautiful black, white and chestnut-coloured horses drawing chariots stood nearby each District's group. Beyond the gaping entrance, what seemed like several kilometres of flat, expansive road was flanked by sonorous drums, pyrotechnics shooting flame every which way, more Peacekeepers than Eamon ever thought possible, and a crowd that didn't even look like people; just a mismatch of colours oddly distorted through the heat haze.

Eamon wasn't sure how he had time to take note of it all, because after mere seconds of entering it felt like most pairs of eyes inside were upon their entourage, namely Eamon and Madeline's regal-looking outfits.

He nudged Madeline, "Stand up straight and look impressive."

She nodded and kept her head held high as Fingle directed them to their chariot, making it a point not to look at the other tributes as they walked past.

This was the first real chance Eamon got to see a lot of the tributes up close and personal, even if their comical-looking outfits disguised that somewhat. The tributes from District 1 were dressed in a variety of colourful feathers and downs which Eamon supposed were designed to make them look like peacocks. The male and female tributes from District 4 looked like a shark and a dolphin respectively, which made Eamon oddly curious what it must be like to live near the ocean. He hadn't a clue what the District 8 tributes were meant to look like; his best guess was that they were meant to resemble sewing machines. He felt confident that no-one's attire was nearly as impressive as his and Madeline's.

Fingle and Vivian left Eamon and Madeline to stand next to the chariot while they handled some last minute organisational matters. Once they were out of earshot Madeline turned to him.

"Hey, I know Vivian told us not to, but I've got an idea."

"Oh? I'm all ears."

She whispered her plan to him.

"I don't know," he started. "There's a reason Viv told us- "

"But it would be both of us! We can make that work, especially with these outfits."

He smiled, "You're starting to catch on to the finer details of the Games. You might not even need my help at this rate."

"So, you'll do it?" she grinned.

"Sure. These are our lives to throw away anyhow, not Vivian's."

He gave her a big hug and a sense of pride began to spread through his fingertips. Once again, he vowed to get her home by any means necessary, even if it meant killing all the other tributes single-handedly.

With a minute before the start of the parade, they gathered themselves and stood in position on the back of their chariot as Nott, Vivian, Fingle, Sylvia and Alexis re-joined them and guided their chariot to stand in position behind the District 8 one. Eamon's heart began to race as he stared out of the maw at the oncoming Parade. He'd always hated public speaking or standing out in general.

The rhythm of the drums changed and began to beat to the anthem of Panem. The first chariot was sent out and both Eamon and Madeline looked back at Nott, who gave a reassuring, if concerned nod back at them. Their chariot finally propelled forward, and they were thrust out into the heat of the night and the lights. The chorus of the tens of thousands of Capitol citizens was deafening, and flowers were being showered onto the boulevard.

Eamon waved stiffly but flashed as dazzling a smile as he could muster, which was somewhat difficult given the circumstances, however it fit with the noble nature of his attire. To his complete surprise however, Madeline was a natural. Her waving was confident, her smile was heart-melting and she even blew kisses to accentuate her princess motif. At about a quarter of the way, she nudged his foot with her own, and he understood.

He leaned down, and she hooked her legs around his neck with great difficulty given the unstable nature of the chariot. Keeping one hand on her tiara, and another on Eamon's head to keep balance. He stood back up, placing a hand on the chariot to steady himself. Together they looked like a pair of tourists, out for a simple night of exploring the sights of the Capitol.

Eamon was unsure what the sponsors would think, but he needn't have worried. The throng exploded as the grain duke and duchess bestowed their royal greetings upon them. Nearby television screens lit up with their faces and suddenly it was like looking into a hall of mirrors.

Before they knew it, the end of the avenue approached and so did the Presidential booth. Eamon lowered himself once again and allowed Madeline to regain her footing. One by one, the chariots came to a halt as the booth towered high above them and so did the figure that approached the podium. When all were stationary, Tobias Bishop raised a hand and instantly the world was plunged into silence. His voice echoed out resonant, entrancing and decadent over each and every person there.

"Welcome! Welcome one and all to the 68th Annual Hunger Games! Tributes. My, my, my, don't we have a colourful bunch this year? I feel I speak for all of us when I say we applaud your valour and fortitude in honouring these Games, a most sacred tradition to our people and our history, I'm sure you'll agree. I have just a few words for our tributes, as I often do, in hopes that you will find them inspirational and thought-provoking."

He cleared his throat and his voice struck a chord, like that of a poet:

" _Home is where the heart is,_

 _It is your kingdom come,_

 _The source of your solace and your strength,_

 _To do what needs to be done._ "

Applause rang out as he finished his short verse.

"Follow those words true tributes, and may they guide you to salvation. Thank you all, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

He waved as he departed the booth, and the chariots kicked into life once again.

When Eamon and Madeline returned, Vivian was (as expected) noticeably agitated.

"What were you two thinking?!" she burst out. "I specifically told you not to do things like that, and what did you do? You did it anyway!"

Eamon tried to speak, but she carried on anyway.

"We are trying to help you! You can't just ignore us and do your own thing! You should consider yourselves incredibly thankful it worked."

She looked like she was about to have a nervous breakdown.

"I'm sorry Vivian," said Madeline sheepishly. "It was my idea. I figured if the Capitol could see us as the kind of 'big-brother/little-sister' pair we are, they'd warm up to us more."

"Now hang on a sec Viv," said Nott slowly. "I think this can work. Yeah… I like the sound of this. 'The Royal Family of District 9' or something. Although from what I can tell, more than a few people seem to have made the connection themselves."

Vivian looked stunned that Nott approved.

"And it gives you something to talk about in your interviews," pointed out a rapt Fingle.

Vivian was clearly outmatched and crestfallen.

"We're sorry Viv," said Eamon. "We'll listen more in the future."

She raised her head slightly. "Well the important thing is that it worked and that you two are okay. Come now, we'll discuss this harebrained plan of yours at dinner."

They made to leave but Eamon noticed something out of the corner of his eye. The District 2 tributes of Blair Lynch and Landon Starr, stylised as knights in shining, silver plate armour had their eyes fixed squarely on him. Landon's eyes narrowed, and his mouth thinned, but Blair's expression was completely inscrutable. Eamon gave them a fleeting wink before following his group out.


	8. Career Opportunities

Chapter 8.

The elevator descended into the depths of the Tribute Center. Eamon put a hand on Madeline's shoulder once again and gave her a reassuring look. Nott, Vivian and Fingle weren't allowed into the Training Center with them so for the first time since the train, the two of them were on their own. The elevator opened with a ding and they marched past the peacekeepers lining the walls into the Training Center.

What lay before Eamon's eyes was unlike anything he'd ever seen during his training with Nott. A wide-open area the size of a football field was host to two dozen or so stations each specialising in something different. The bow, spear and throwing knife stations had ample weapons in supply, plenty of targets and even holographic projections to practice on. Others, like axe and sword stations had wide open spaces, with sparring partners and dummies in abundance. There were somewhat more subtle stations such as those teaching how to start a fire, identify edible and safe food sources, and basic traps to set including snares and pitfalls. There were large, intricate obstacle courses for testing agility and endurance. Shelves upon shelves of gleaming, finely-crafted, silver equipment and tools. A booth, not unlike the Presidential booth seen during the Tribute Parade was situated high above them, with roughly a dozen dignified officials looking on carefully; Eamon assumed these were Gamemakers.

What was more apparent however, was that all the other tributes were already there. They wore black and yellow training shirts with a number on the back to indicate which district they were from, much like Eamon and Madeline, and stood in a semi-circle around a man with flaming red hair dressed in a black pea coat.

"About time the so-called 'Grain Duke and Duchess' showed up. We've been here for some time, your exalted royalty."

To everyone's surprise but Eamon, the snide comment came from a clearly irritated Landon Starr. He raised an eyebrow at Landon but before he could say anything, someone else piped up.

"'Some time'? Oh, piss off Landon, it's been ten seconds." said a violet-haired girl on the other side of the circle. Eamon recognised her from Vivian's dossier as Vesper Rhodes, the female tribute from District 7. How she knew Landon's name, he didn't know; perhaps he hadn't been the only one doing his homework.

"Wow you kids don't even need me in order to be at each other's throats," chuckled the red-haired man drawing attention back to himself. "I approve of this development whole-heartedly indeed."

"Sorry for the delay Mr. LaFleur, traffic was a nightmare" said Eamon formally, with a slight smirk at Landon, causing a few tributes to snigger slightly. In truth their tardiness was actually by design; after all, they'd made an impression the previous night by arriving fashionably late and Nott felt it would make a similarly powerful statement to do so in front of the other tributes. He was quite pleased with how things had played out thus far, and was reminded of something Nott had told him years ago:

"So how do you beat a Career?" he had asked Eamon. "Careers are strong, fast, and have numbers, it's true, but they aren't particularly complicated for the most part. They're disciplined, yet arrogant. Focused, yet impatient. They have well-laid strategies, but no mind for imagination or improvisation. The answer? Chaos, discord, dissension amongst the ranks, whatever you want to call it. When their plans don't go as expected, that's when they're at their most vulnerable. When you see an opportunity for disruption, you take it, because no-one else will do it for you."

"By all means, we were just getting ready to start," said the red-haired man. "Good to see someone familiar with me. For those who aren't, my name is Ambrose LaFleur, and I am the Head Gamemaker for the Hunger Games. I'm just here to give you a quick crash course on what this facility is and how you'll be using it for the next three days before the start of the Games."

He went on to explain the rules of the Training Center, the various stations for use, survival skills that shouldn't be ignored, the sparring partners and station assistants, and the private scoring sessions that take place after three days. For the most part it was nothing that Eamon wasn't already acutely aware of, but beside him Madeline's attention was undivided and soaking up the information like a sponge. Her intensity reminded him to not be lax, just because he had been trained for years. After all, that was a known weakness of the Careers.

"Well now, I believe that's all there is to go over," said Ambrose rubbing his hands together. "Tributes, a pleasure to meet you all. You may now begin your training. May the odds be ever in your favour."

Pandemonium ensued as tributes rushed towards the stations and attempted to plan what they would do first. Unsurprisingly, all six of the Careers rushed to various weapon-oriented stations. Eamon turned to Madeline.

"Righto, you're the one who needs training here; what do you want to do first?"

She looked at the weapon stations with a mix of disgust and trepidation. He knew that she'd handled herself well so far, but it was clear that asking her to train to kill was a step too much even then.

"Survival skills," she said. "I want to learn how to find water and food."

"That's as good a place as any to begin," he smiled. "Why don't you get started and I'll catch up to you?"

"You're not coming?"

"I want to have a look at the competition first. Figure out who we need to worry about. You can handle yourself, you've done really well so far."

She looked slightly downcast until he said that. She smiled and made her way to the survival skill station not far away, leaving Eamon to his own devices.

He went for a walk around the Training Center, acting as if he were indecisive about what station to train at. He walked past the projectile weapon ranges, where Jasmine Wilde, Hilda Blythe and Dennis Kessling were stationed at. Jasmine was practicing with a set of kunai; her accuracy was impeccable, but her speed slightly less so. Hilda was using a bow, which Eamon had shown decent enough skill with growing up, but it felt too clumsy for his liking. She seemed to have no issue with it however. Dennis was using a spear, not just for throwing, but also practicing close up melee combat. He frowned slightly and looked at Eamon; a look that suggested he knew exactly what Eamon was up to. Eamon moved on hurriedly.

The lanky, camel-faced figure of Axel Costa was sparring with a sword and not far from him was Vesper who was also sparring, but with a strange curved dagger of some sort. Her movements were lightning-quick as was her footwork, allowing her to disarm her partner with ease. She looked at Eamon and flashed a quick grin, and he nodded in return. He made a point to keep his options open; she had potential as a solid ally.

Continuing on his walk, he noticed that the younger tributes were mostly avoiding the weapon stations and focusing instead on survival skills and fitness training, much like Madeline. He saw the girl from 10 comforting her younger male counterpart who was quietly sobbing in front of the climbing station. The sight of it swamped Eamon's mind like a wave, and he realised how pointless his volunteering as tribute was. Who was he protecting? Madeline? Aiden Gibly? What made their lives more important than the two he saw now? Twenty-three innocent children, Career or not, were still doomed, regardless of his volunteering. He cast back to his one ironclad reason which cleared some of his doubt but didn't alleviate the hurt his heart felt.

Helping to clear his head was the strange sight of the boy from District 5 – Karmichael Damocles. He was big and rugged, with hints of stubble and acne covering the parts of his face that weren't obscured by his long, black hair, which hung down in front of his eyes like curtains. He looked like should be sparring with the Careers… so what was he doing sitting on a bench in a corner, keeping as far away from any of the stations as possible? Eamon wanted to ask him, but also wanted to avoid him as much as he could. Still, he made a mental note of such odd behaviour.

Upon completing a lap of the Training Center, Eamon took stock of all that he had seen. He was just about to re-join Madeline when he realised he hadn't seen either of the District 2 Careers. He looked over at the weapon station where he expected to see them, only he saw much more than he expected.

Jasmine, Landon and Blair were having a quiet but heated argument. Blair had seemingly been lining up to use some sort of crossbow when Landon pushed in and decided to show her how he could use it better, and for whatever reason, Jasmine had joined in and seemed to be siding with Landon.

 _Wow. I don't even need to cause disruption if you guys are going to do it all for me. Still, doesn't mean I can't take advantage of it,_ thought Eamon. He eyed Blair like a lion would eye a limping gazelle, thinking fast. Having had enough, she stormed off toward another station.

 _I'll have to play this carefully. She is still a Career, after all._

Blair had moved to the spear-throwing station and Eamon moved quickly as well, lining up behind her even though there was a spare range beside her. In her anger, her spear missed the bullseye by several inches, giving Eamon the perfect opening.

"Hey," he said politely, "couldn't help but notice your technique was a little off there, just wondering if I might give you a hand?" He took extra care to not come off like Landon must have.

"I don't need a 9 to tell me how to throw a spear, thanks," she said irritably.

"Fair enough," he replied overly cheerily.

Eamon took up the range next to her and loaded a spear in his right hand. He let it fly and it found its mark just an inch below the bullseye. Blair turned to him with her eyes wide before composing herself once more.

"You've been trained." It wasn't a question. "How? Most tributes from outlier Districts aren't prepared at all."

"Most tributes aren't raised by a previous Victor."

The shock reappeared fleetingly before she nodded in comprehension.

"It's Eamon, right?"

"Mhm. I take it you're Blair?"

"Sorry for being so rude earlier, I was just pissed."

"Hey, I feel you; sometimes I do my best work when I'm pissed."

"No, it's not that, it's just…" she trailed off, looking at the other Careers.

"Ah, say no more. None of my business."

They talked a little while longer, and Eamon continued to play her like a fiddle. He was kind, understanding, funny, reluctant to pry, and proving a much better alternative to those she was allied with by default of being a Career.

"I take it you're a spear-thrower then?" he asked.

"Not really, but I'm decent enough with them, I guess. You?"

"Same more or less. Not quite my ideal weapon."

"What is your ideal weapon then?" She was clearly curious now.

"Good question." He'd been eyeing one particular weapon ever since he arrived – the question was whether to show his skills so early. He settled on trying to gain Blair's trust and gestured to a station tucked away in the corner of the room.

"How about those?" he asked, pointing to a stand of weapons taller than him.

"The glaive?" she laughed. "Do you even know why that station is hidden away in the corner?"

He shrugged.

"Because no tributes know how to use the damn things. The balance is really... weird."

"Sucks to be them then. Come on, it'll be fun; mostly for you though, because I'll probably look like an idiot."

They headed to the elevated dais in the corner and Eamon looked at the polished, steel glaive before taking it in his hands. The handle was as tall as him and on one end jutted a sharp, curved blade the size of his forearm. Blair was right; the balance would have been odd for most tributes. But as he had suspected, Eamon found it remarkably similar to the hoe he had been practicing with for years, only with not quite so much weight at the end.

He pressed a few buttons on an interface in front of the station, so that practice dummies would emerge from the ceiling and floor around him. He stepped inside the arena and twirled and rolled the glaive through his arms and behind him, getting the feel for it. A shameful part of him revelled in that moment; he'd been training every three to four days for the past eight years and it felt good to be back at his rituals once again.

A _crack_ sounded behind him as the first dummy emerged. His hands worked up and down the handle as the reach of the glaive allowed him to slice through its head from afar. Another two appeared from the floor on both his flanks, and Eamon used both the blade and the butt of the rod to maim them almost simultaneously. The pace picked up, and Eamon's feet began shifting so fast they spent more time off the ground than on it. His movements became increasingly convoluted, with each slash and spin flowing into the next almost seamlessly. When the final four dummies converged on him from different angles, a flourishing spin attack swept through all of them, ending his crazed dance.

He breathed deeply at the end of the simulation, before stepping down to re-join Blair, who was unable to compose herself this time.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna go with this one," he grinned at her look of utter bemusement.

Blair however, hadn't been the only one watching. Out of the corner of his eye, Eamon noticed Dennis looking on with great interest and a furrowed expression. A sinking feeling formed in his stomach. If the other Careers noticed him trying too hard to get Blair on his side they may try to interfere. On the other hand, Landon and Jasmine didn't seem to care overly much for her.

"Alright, I have to admit that was good," she said slowly, "but don't think I still can't kick your ass."

"Oh, well then by all means go for it. I take it you have a favourite weapon as well?"

"Of course. And in time I might just show you."

Eamon chuckled, knowing better than to press his luck any further.

"I might just take you up on that. Speaking of time, it's about time I got back to helping my District partner with her survival skills."

"Oh, okay then." She looked somewhat crestfallen.

"Feel free to say hi. I don't bite. Much," he added with a wink.

He turned on his heel and headed back towards Madeline's station. The hand of friendship had been extended and the seeds of doubt planted.

 **This was a particularly fun chapter to write. I enjoyed showing off the fruits of Eamon's physical and mental training, particularly his more manipulative side, and how he plans to take apart the Careers. It's still good for him to be reminded of his moral dilemmas, however. But many questions arose from this chapter. Can Eamon get Blair to defect from the Careers fully? What was Dennis so interested in? Will Madeline overcome her fear of weapons and killing? And what of the secretive Karmichael from District 5?**


	9. A Quick Study

Chapter 9.

Nott had always possessed a tangible, yet irksome ability to know things he simply shouldn't.

Upon returning from their first day of training he had taken Eamon aside.

"Eamon, what the hell?" he said crossly. "You left Madeline to fend for herself while you went off to chat up some girl?"

Eamon snorted, "Hardly. I just went around seeing what everyone else was up to. I went back to her soon after, anyway."

"Even then, you showed your skills! I've specifically told you over and over not to do that!"

"You mean the glaive? I can't exactly use that bloody hoe in here, now can I? In any case, the girl you're talking about is the Career from District 2."

"Wait… what?"

"Don't you see? I saw her get into a fight with the other Careers and I took the opportunity to capitalise, just like you always said. If I can get her as an ally, it weakens them and strengthens us."

Nott's anger was replaced by shock and then consternation. He'd clearly underestimated Eamon's psychological trickery.

"Are you sure you can get her as an ally?"

"I reckon so."

"Careful Eamon. You know as well as I do not to trust a Career. You're playing a dangerous game."

"Aren't we all?"

"Still, I would like you to spend as much time with Madeline as you can. She needs the help."

"Don't worry, I will. But she's not as helpless as you might think, she's… actually a surprisingly quick study."

Eamon hadn't been kidding. By the beginning of the last day of training, Madeline was able to make snares and makeshift knife traps just as easily and quickly as Eamon. She'd taken to keeping a notepad, writing down all the names and descriptions of various plants that were and weren't edible, and made a point to recite them constantly under her breath. Eamon had her run drills through many of the climbing and agility courses, and whilst he doubted her fitness would improve in the short period of time they had, it reassured him that she was far from a sitting duck.

He hadn't had much chance to talk to Blair since their previous encounter as Nott had told him to stick with Madeline. He wondered if Blair's mentor had told her something similar as she was generally seen in the company of the other Careers, despite mounting evidence of the relationship souring quickly. She had however, managed to sneak away from them for a few minutes to join Madeline and Eamon, who were practicing tying various types of knots.

"Umm… hi," she said hesitantly.

She was holding a pair of weapons that Eamon recognised as sai. They were short and three-pronged, with the middle prong extending out further while the other two curved off slightly. He wondered if perhaps those were her weapon of choice.

"Hey there," said a smiling Eamon. "Oh Blair, this is Madeline; she's my District partner. Madeline, this is Blair, she's from District 2. Don't worry, she's cool," he added in response to Madeline's fearful expression.

"Nice to meet you," said Madeline.

"And you," said Blair. "Was just wondering if I could have a word, Eamon?"

"Sure thing. Keep practicing, you've almost got it," he added to Madeline.

Moving a few paces away, Blair muttered "I just thought I'd stop by and say hi. I'm not even supposed to be talking to you actually. My mentor told me to stick with those other assholes."

"Yeah, mine said something similar," laughed Eamon. "Told me to help Madeline, which to be fair, I was already doing anyway, so yeah. I take it things aren't going very well?"

"I wish my partner was half as cooperative as yours seems to be. He's trying to turn them all against me."

"Ouch. How come?"

"He doesn't think I'm good enough, but really, he just doesn't want someone else from District 2 stealing his thunder."

"You know that doesn't surprise me in the slightest?"

"I suppose this is where you tell me to ditch them and partner up with you and your friend?"

"Well I was gonna ask if you were interested, but I wasn't intending to go quite that far. I'm not _that_ much of a jerk."

She laughed slightly, "I don't know. My mentor wants me to stick with them, but I know they'll just turn on me without a second thought. I don't want to go it alone, because that's not what I've been trained for. You seem alright, but a little girl along with us? She'll probably just hold us back."

"Madeline's actually pretty good. Her survival skills are about as good as mine, with significantly less training."

"Haven't seen her use a weapon yet."

This was true. Madeline had still adamantly avoided the weapon stations by that point.

"It's early days, give it a chance."

"Can't afford to go around giving chances."

"Fair enough, it's your life to gamble with."

"I'll think about it."

"Speaking of weapons, I assume those are yours?" he asked, pointing to her sai.

"Yeah, they are," she said somewhat defensively, as though he were mocking her choice of weapon. "Good for offense, defense and throwing. Unlike that big ugly stick of yours."

Eamon chuckled and nodded, "Alright, you may wanna get back before they notice you're missing. Good seeing you again though."

"You too."

Confused and mildly irritated, he watched her walk away.

 _Why must girls be so damn confusing?_ he thought. On the one hand it was nice that she was still considering an alliance, all with minimal effort on Eamon's part. On the other hand, he felt like it was a pretty easy choice to make, even if she did feel Madeline wasn't super-prepared. Perhaps she was just playing hardball.

"Problem?" asked Madeline as he walked back over.

"Ehh… sort of," he said uneasily, "I tried getting her as an ally the other day, and she's still making up her mind."

"What's she like?"

"Not quite what I expected in a Career, honestly. Get the feeling that our Games depend on whether or not she joins us."

"Not what I meant. I mean, what is she like? She seems nice enough."

"I'm not following what you mean."

Madeline headbutted her palm with a resounding _smack_.

"For someone who's been training for eight years, you're awfully dim in a lot of ways Eamon."

"Thank you. On another note, you're far from the finished product yourself."

Impressed as he had been by Madeline's progress there were two areas of her training that stood out to him. The first was her proficiency for healing injuries. She'd learned quickly how to create makeshift bandages out of leaves and vegetation, as well as washing out and disinfecting open wounds. Eamon suggested this as the skill to show off to the Gamemakers for her scoring.

Ironically, the second area that Eamon was concerned with was the opposite of healing. As Blair had reminded him, Madeline had no experience with weapons or understanding of killing. He'd tried to ease her into it, but by that stage, even most of the younger tributes had tried their hand with a sword.

"Madeline look," he said in a soft undertone, "You need to learn how to use a weapon. Even if it's just a knife to defend yourself. We've still got half the day left, surely we can-"

"No. I don't want to."

"I don't want to either, but this the situation we're in. The whole point of the Games is… well… to kill each other."

"Have you even watched Nott's Games?" she asked, knowing the answer full well.

"Of course, I have."

"Then you'll know that he didn't fight or kill anyone."

"Not directly at least. What's the difference between slicing someone in half and making them fall in a freezing lake?" he pointed out.

"Changes how I feel about it," she muttered.

"You can bet Nott knew how to defend himself in any case. Besides, he wouldn't have been able to set any of those traps without an axe."

"What even is there to learn anyway? All you do is take a sword and put it in someone. It's that simple." She sounded very bitter.

"Madeline please, I'm trying to help," Eamon was almost pleading at this point. "I'd say you stand a pretty good chance of winning if you just learn a weapon or two."

"No. I just won't. I won't do that. That's not what I do."

She walked off in a huff to go get a drink, leaving Eamon with only his subdued, despondent thoughts for company.

 **Apologies for this being a slightly shorter chapter, but I hope it was enjoyable nonetheless. Good to see Madeline's training coming along, showing where she's excelling and where she isn't – will she be able to kill if it comes down to it? Clearly things aren't quite going as Eamon expected, how he adapts will be important for his Games. Blair is as enigmatic as ever, and who knows how she will decide to act?**


	10. What We've Got in Score

Chapter 10.

Although the Games were set to take place the very next day, Eamon and Madeline were sure of one thing: they couldn't wait to leave the apartment. They hated it. They hated the stupid honeycomb-patterned wallpaper, they hated the obnoxious-looking abstract furniture, and most of all, they hated being cooped up inside it whilst awaiting whatever hoops the Capitol would make them jump through next. So much did their confinement irritate them that they didn't particularly care for the state they left it in, with Madeline innocently resorting to knocking over vases and glasses here and there when no-one was around. A small rebellion perhaps, but oh so liberating.

And here they were once again, this time waiting for the Gamemakers to call them down to show their skills and be scored. Eamon paced around incessantly while Madeline sat with her arms folded and her leg bouncing up and down furiously. Ten minutes turned into an hour, which turned into two, which turned into four, with nothing to do but wait. After what felt like an eternity, the door finally opened to reveal two large Peacekeepers.

"Eamon Cunningham, it's time for your private Gamemaker session."

Eamon looked back at Madeline, Nott and Vivian. Nott nodded reassuringly while Madeline's expression of irritation had quickly changed to one of concern. He nodded in turn and headed through the doorway, escorted by the Peacekeepers on either side slightly behind him. One subdued elevator trip later he once again walked into the Training Center, but this time he was all alone. Aside from the platoon of Peacekeepers and training assistants lining the walls, and Gamemakers looking down on him from up high in their booth. He stood in front of them and looked up at the familiar fiery-headed figure.

"Welcome Mr. Cunningham," said a smiling Ambrose, "Today you will display your skill of choice. You have fifteen minutes to do so and are free to use any stations, tools or assistants to help you do so. Your time begins now."

Part of Eamon wanted to use his prior irritation to drive him, but he had a plan and made a point to stick to it for once. He took a series of deep breaths to clear his mind before getting to work. Quickly taking the glaive from its usual location, he asked Ambrose for a sparring partner and a mix of curiosity and concern crossed the Head Gamemaker's face.

Of course, sparring partners weren't merely proficient with a single kind of weapon, but with many. Eamon hoped to turn this to his advantage; given how the glaive was seldom-used by tributes he anticipated the sparring partners were similarly out of practice with it. Ambrose beckoned to Darius, a well-built man a few inches taller than Eamon, with rough-looking sideburns. Darius also took up a glaive before standing several feet opposite Eamon in the center of the room.

Eamon wanted to show off the depth of his training, and what better way to do so than to treat it like an actual training session? Only for once, he would take the role of Nott, and Darius would be the student, assuming he had the patience for it.

They locked eyes and Eamon lunged, making a blatant thrust at Darius' chest. Darius swiftly parried before bringing the blade over his head and down upon Eamon's. Eamon sidestepped faster than Darius anticipated, bringing the glaive back around his abdomen and up to Darius' exposed neck. There was silence as the cool edge of the blade halted less than an inch from Darius flesh. He had lost.

"An obvious trick," said Eamon seriously, in his best impersonation of Nott. "Lesson one: never assume your opponent is a beginner. Let's go again."

Darius bared his teeth slightly and swallowed, before taking up his prior position. This time, he made the first move, with a low horizontal slice at Eamon's legs which was neatly deflected by the butt of Eamon's own weapon. Eamon followed through with a brutal counter, aimed squarely at his left rib that was barely blocked in time with Darius' guard, albeit at the cost of temporary imbalance. Eamon pounced on this, and began to move to his right, striking hard and fast at his flank all the while. Darius was forced to compromise his technique and go on the defensive using both hands, and barely holding on. Eamon ended it once again by getting the grip of his weapon between Darius and his own, yanking the glaive out of his hands. It fell to the floor with an audible clatter.

"There's your second lesson, don't remain static. Keep moving. Fluidity and footwork will allow you to zig when your opponent zags. Let's try again."

Darius was clearly getting frustrated at being so easily embarrassed by a teenager. It showed in the following duels but didn't diminish his skill. Eamon was unsure whether it was his advice making him angry or simply that Darius was taking him more seriously but either way, their fights became gradually more intense as time went on. He unintentionally and unexpectedly went too far on a couple of occasions however, leaving Eamon with some light scratches on his calf and forearm, before realising that it wouldn't bode well to maim a tribute on the eve of the Games. Those minor injuries however, were nothing compared to those Eamon had left Darius with. He'd rapped him across the head and ribs several times, with noticeable bruising and swelling beginning to form. His clothes were tattered in several places where Eamon's glaive had punctured them whilst scarcely avoiding flesh. Reflexively and instinctively, Eamon clearly outmatched him.

"You have one minute remaining Mr. Cunningham," called Ambrose.

 _Time to leave a lasting impression_ , thought Eamon.

He and Darius stood opposite each other one last time, and immediately Eamon rushed him. It quickly became clear to Darius that Eamon had been merely toying with him thus far, as he moved with speed, grace and deliberation far beyond what he had shown so far. Eamon's weapon didn't so much swing through the air as it did dance, whirling rapidly and flowing freely from one hand to the other. He bombarded Darius with attacks from all angles at his head, neck, abdomen, and ankles and there was genuine fear in Darius' eyes as it was all he could do to hold Eamon at bay. He staggered back slightly, and Eamon seized the moment to get down low and sweep his legs out from under him with a swift kick. Darius collapsed with a groan and looked up at Eamon, seething, with the glaive pressed cleanly against his throat.

"And your last lesson? Don't fuck with me," he said clearly, looking up at Ambrose as he said that last part. Given the opportunity, Eamon would never 'train' someone as brutally as he had with Darius, but under the circumstances he doubted he'd lose much sleep over it.

Ambrose smiled, "Thank you for your presentation Mr. Cunningham. You're free to go. Would you mind informing Ms. Skylock that she is due for her session?"

Eamon inclined his head grudgingly at the Head Gamemaker before removing the glaive from Darius' throat and placing it back at its appropriate weapon rack. He headed out towards the elevator, escorted once again by a pair of Peacekeepers. He didn't realise until exiting the elevator just how much of a sweat he'd worked up.

He opened the door to the apartment to relieved expressions all round.

"How'd it go?" asked Nott quickly.

"Uhh… I don't know yet I guess," Eamon mumbled.

"Sorry, stupid question."

"Madeline, they're waiting for you," he told her.

She blanched but looked determined.

"Any last-minute advice?" she asked.

"Stick to what you know, but don't be afraid to take the initiative."

She had a puzzled look on her face but hugged him all the same before departing. Eamon tried to unwind as best he could while waiting for her return, pouring himself a drink and talking to Fingle.

Madeline returned a short while later and was interrogated much more heavily on what she did and how she did it. It made Eamon feel slightly forgotten about by comparison, but he was used to it.

"I went in wanting to show off how I could treat wounds and stuff," she started. "And then I kind of just followed your advice Eamon and took the initiative. At least I think I did. There was a Peacekeeper in the corner that was pretty clearly hurt, did you see?"

"No, but I was kind of focused on other things, I guess. Why would a Peacekeeper stay there if he was injured?" Eamon asked the others.

"You may not like them, but Peacekeepers don't get to be Peacekeepers without being extremely disciplined, Eamon," explained Sylvia. "If they're stationed somewhere for a specific period, they stay there until that period is up, whether they're injured, dying or whatever. He's probably not allowed to leave until scoring is over. As to how he was injured I have no idea, however."

"Well, I asked if he could come over. He was bleeding and had some huge bruises and broken bones. I was able to stem the blood flow partially and use some of the plants to make some mild ointments for his bruising. He was a bit grumpy and in a lot of pain, but it seemed to help. I didn't have time to fix him up entirely, but I was able to make a splint out of some leaves and shoots for his broken leg."

Everyone looked at her, stunned.

"What?"

"That's… seriously cool Madeline," whistled Alexis.

"Yeah, I have to agree," said Nott, "I can't stand Peacekeepers as much as the next person, but it sounds like you showed resourcefulness and survivability. The Gamemakers will appreciate that. And doing something different, like Eamon says, will stand out."

"Oh. Well, cool… I guess?" Madeline stammered.

Scoring sessions continued on for just over an hour, and the Tributes' scores were to be televised just one hour afterwards in the early afternoon. Eamon, Madeline, Nott, Vivian, Fingle, Alexis and Sylvia all gathered around the television as it started. Two eccentric-looking figures appeared on screen whom Eamon recognised as Malmedy and Primo – the commentator duo for the Games. Malmedy's flowing, shoulder-length hair was dyed green with streaks of purple throughout and clashed horribly with his bedazzled gold jacket, whilst Primo's well-trimmed stubble and ponytail complimented his own grey blazer handsomely.

"Grrrrrreetings one and all, happy Hunger Games!" exclaimed Malmedy excitedly. "The time has come, the big day is tomorrow, and let me tell you, Primo and I are simply beside ourselves, aren't we?"

"Oh yes, quite right, "said Primo noticeably more calmly. "You know Malmedy, we've been commentating the Games for almost fifteen years now and I think this year more than any other, I've realised a certain perk to this job."

"Oh really? Do tell."

"We get to see the tribute scores earlier than anyone else!" This prompted a hearty chuckle from Malmedy.

"You're spot on the money, my dear friend! Yes, we're here today to present the official scores attained by the tributes during their private Gamemaker sessions, and let me tell you folks, this years are a humdinger!"

"Absolutely, I haven't seen such a competitive field of tributes in a very long time."

Eamon wasn't sure whether he wanted to hear that. On one hand it meant that he and Madeline might have pretty decent scores, but on the other hand, it could just as equally mean the same for their opponents.

"Well, now let's get to it, hmm? Typically, we announce the scores by District each year, but this year we're going to be starting from the lowest scores and work our way to the highest ones. Just to shake things up, you understand."

"Now then," said Malmedy taking an unnecessarily dramatic pause, "With a score of 3: Karmichael Damocles of District 5."

Eamon frowned. That was the same boy he'd seen sitting by himself, not training on the first day. Now that he thought about it, he didn't remember seeing Karmichael train at all over the three days. He certainly looked strong and mature enough to get at least a 7 without much difficulty. Was he just overly timid? Was he faking it? Eamon simply couldn't get a read on him.

"No tribute received a score of 4 so let's move on to the 5s," continued Primo. "Ivanna Merchant of District 6, Spencer Nash of District 7, and Cooper Hastings of District 10."

Everyone in the room had a similar, gruesome thought – those kids scores were likely very reflective of their actual talent and would probably not survive more than five minutes.

"The tributes with a score of 6: Zoey Townsend of District 3, Timothy Crow of District 3, Owen Magnussen of District 8, and Cecilia Moreau of District 12."

Every score that passed by relieved some of the tension in the room, knowing that there were still plenty of tributes worse off than Eamon and Madeline.

"Tributes with a score of 7: Alys Redding of District 5, Paige Delaney of District 8, Nora Wormwood of District 11, and Kale Fox of District 11."

Half the tributes had gone by, but at the same time, that meant that half the tributes had managed an 8 or higher. Primo was right – this was a very competitive field.

"Tributes who received a score of 8: Jasmine Wilde of District 1, Grant Overton of District 6, Madeline Skylock of District 9, and Harvey Goodwin of District 12."

A round of cheers broke out for Madeline and a wave of relief washed over her.

"Nice one!"

"Good stuff Maddy!"

"The girl's a natural!"

"I'll say! She matched a Career with just three days' worth of prep!"

They were so busy congratulating her that they almost missed the 9s. Eamon had yet to be scored, and so had plenty of others that they were concerned about.

"We're really getting into the upper echelons now," remarked Primo. "Tributes who secured a score of 9: Axel Costa of District 1, Hilda Blythe of District 4, and Francesca Durante of District 10."

Eamon's eyes widened. He'd managed a 10? Or possibly better?

"I tell you what Primo, I'm starting to feel a bit dizzy up at these harrowing heights," chuckled Malmedy. "Tributes that achieved a mighty score of 10: Blair Lynch of District 2,"

"Nice one Eamon," interrupted Nott, "you sure know how to pick an ally."

Eamon nodded in return. She wasn't technically his ally yet, but he hoped Madeline's score of 8 had eased some of her doubts.

"Dennis Kessling of District 4," continued Malmedy.

Eamon felt uneasy about Dennis. He looked like Eamon, he used a similar signature weapon – a spear – to Eamon, and he had unnervingly caught Dennis watching him many times during training. Like he was studying him or something.

"Vesper Rhodes of District 7."

Eamon had completely forgotten about the lavender-haired girl from District 7 after the first day. She seemed strong and nice, and he remembered considering her as an ally but was side-tracked by attempting to appeal to Blair. Too little too late now though, there was virtually no time left to make more allies before the Games.

"And Eamon Cunningham of District 9."

A second, significantly louder round of cheers echoed throughout the room. Hands came from every which way to pat Eamon on the back and Vivian became so excitable that she spilled her drink all over herself. Eamon allowed himself a small smile, but something concerned him slightly in the back of his mind. He couldn't place it with all the noise until Malmedy and Primo continued talking, extinguishing their celebration like a candle in the wind.

"That's incredible isn't it?" said Primo. "According to my numbers, we haven't had four or more tributes score a 10 or higher since the 43rd Hunger Games! That's a Quarter Quells worth of Games for those doing the maths at home!"

"It certainly is remarkable," smiled Malmedy, baring pearly white teeth, "And you know, we still have one tribute remaining! With a mind-boggling score of 11: Landon Starr of District 2!"

 **Author's Notes: Apologies for the delay of this chapter, I hope it's worth it though. Also I feel at this point I can add a Tribute List to make things a bit more clear and concise, so here it is:**

 **D1 Female: Jasmine Wilde.**

 **D1 Male: Axel Costa.**

 **D2 Female: Blair Lynch.**

 **D2 Male: Landon Starr.**

 **D3 Female: Zoey Townsend.**

 **D3 Male: Timothy Crow.**

 **D4 Female: Hilda Blythe.**

 **D4 Male: Dennis Kessling.**

 **D5 Female: Alys Redding.**

 **D5 Male: Karmichael Damocles.**

 **D6 Female: Ivanna Merchant.**

 **D6 Male: Grant Overton.**

 **D7 Female: Vesper Rhodes.**

 **D7 Male: Spencer Nash.**

 **D8 Female: Paige Delaney.**

 **D8 Male: Owen Magnussen.**

 **D9 Female: Madeline Skylock.**

 **D9 Male: Eamon Cunningham.**

 **D10 Female: Francesca Durante.**

 **D10 Male: Cooper Hastings.**

 **D11 Female: Nora Wormwood.**

 **D11 Male: Kale Fox.**

 **D12 Female: Cecilia Moreau.**

 **D12 Male: Harvey Goodwin.**


	11. Florence and Fawning

Chapter 11.

Eamon peeked out through the gap in the curtains. The stage was barely lit, but somewhere out there in the inky blackness was an audience of hundreds of Capitol citizens hungry to get to know the tributes for the first and last time. He headed back to his dressing room where Fingle, Vivian and Alexis were waiting and looked in the mirror. He looked positively dapper in a crimson velvet jacket and black dress shirt that complimented his tan-coloured pants and suede shoes perfectly. Once again, Fingle had exceeded his expectations. His hair had been slicked back with an overly generous amount of gel and he itched it slightly with the back of his hand.

"Eamon, stop fidgeting, it's fine," said Alexis.

"Oh, come now Al, the boy's allowed to be a little nervous after all," chortled Fingle.

Vivian paid no mind to their conversation, instead transfixed on the television monitor beside them, displaying the darkened stage Eamon had just visited. Suddenly it burst into colour and life, and a chorus of applause exploded from just beyond Eamon's room. A sultry figure that never failed to make his eyes pop out of his skull waltzed onto the center of the stage, and Vivian lost her mind at the sheer sight of her.

Tall, proud and confident, she wore a silk white dress that flowed several feet behind her like water. Her shoulder-length auburn hair was light and fluffy, like a wad of fairy floss, occasionally flashing brilliant diamond-studded earrings. Small wonder Vivian and the rest of the Capitol admired her; she was one of the few of them capable of looking properly beautiful without looking like a circus clown. When she parted her cherry-red lips, words flowed kind and clear like aural honey, every bit as dangerously entrancing as President Bishop.

"Welcome everyone!" beamed Florence Whittaker. "What a beautiful night this is, on the eve of the 68th Annual Hunger Games!"

So bewitched were the crowd by Florence's words, they almost forgot that was their cue to applaud. The split-second lull reminded Eamon to go stand in line with the other tributes whilst Florence continued to talk. Some tributes looked very striking, others looked…interesting. As he stood behind Madeline he was unsure which category she fell into. On one hand she looked adorable in a bright yellow sundress, with a large sunflower adorning each of her pigtails. On the other hand, it showed far too much skin for his liking, especially for a 13-year-old girl. Fingle had said the Capitol would love it (which didn't surprise Eamon) but even then, he still felt uncomfortable; perhaps he really was turning into her older brother.

"Over the course of tonight," continued Florence, "We'll get a chance to speak one-on-one with each of our 24 tributes in what may very well be one of the fiercest and most skilled packs of tributes we have ever seen. They have the bite, but do they have the bark to match? We shall soon see. My first guest tonight, from District 1: Jasmine Wilde!"

The platinum-haired girl that Eamon had seen side with Landon against Blair sauntered out. If he thought Madeline's attire was on the skimpy side, Jasmine's silver gown left even less to the imagination. She shook Florence's hand before joining her on the leather lounge, to the sound of cheers and the occasional wolf-whistle.

With little information to go on, Florence's questions were somewhat generic; How was she finding the Capitol? Why did she volunteer? Was she content with her score? Did she live up to her 'Wilde' name or was she more laid-back? And thus it was a similar case for many tributes, but Eamon's attention was undivided, gleaning him some useful little insights here and there. Axel, for instance, mentioned that he didn't favour a single particular weapon, but was more of a jack-of-all-trades.

Up next was Blair, and Eamon's attention doubled. With her long black dress and dark hair obscuring the left quarter of her face, she looked more mysterious than regal – a good fit, given what Eamon knew of her. Interestingly, whilst she answered most of Florence's questions with ease and style, she was more closed off with other, more personal questions, such as her reason for volunteering and the story behind her moon locket Token. Eamon realised in her position he would probably do the same, even though he realised he wanted those answers himself. As she talked, he felt a strange heat creep into his cheeks.

When it was Landon's turn, the crowd went as crazy as he looked. They wanted to know the story of his score of 11, and so did just about every tribute in line.

"Well you know, a good magician never reveals his secrets," he grinned.

"Are you concerned at all though?" asked Florence. "I mean, you've shown your hand now, a lot of tributes surely have to be gunning for you?"

"Oh god, you're right, you may as well just count me out. I've got nothing left!" he trembled, bursting into tears, with his head in hands.

The audience was unnerved and even Florence was a bit unsure of how to continue.

"Oh relax," he said looking back up and laughing. "If you take one thing away tonight, it's that you do not ever count me out. I don't care if I'm bleeding, face down in the muck, blind, deaf, and dumb. Until that cannon goes, I am still coming for everyone."

Eamon wasn't fooled by his stunt, but he was surprised how many were. Still, Landon struck him as the cunning type and he had only become more assured of that after his interview.

The line of tributes behind the curtain got shorter and shorter until eventually it was just Madeline and Eamon at the front. His mouth kept drying out and his hands were trembling; he'd always hated public speaking back in school. By contrast, Madeline once again seemed so sure of herself. She looked back at him and smiled, grabbing his hand to stop it from shaking. He grinned back at her – he was supposed to be the one helping her, not the other way around.

"Thank you very much Mr. Magnussen, what a lovely boy," said Florence out on stage, as the young District 8 boy walked offstage almost in tears. "Now our next tribute I imagine needs no introduction – not after the Tribute Parade! Give it up for District 9's very own Grain Duchess: Madeline Skylock!"

She did all the right things, exactly as rehearsed. A couple of twirls, a beaming smile, a quick wink to the audience and they ate it all up. Eamon had watched the Games for years and so knew what to expect from these interviews, but Madeline just had the natural talent in appealing to people that he never could. She gave Florence a cute curtsy before taking her seat.

"My my my, isn't she adorable? I wish I was that pretty at her age," admired Florence to the audience.

Madeline laughed, "Oh please. If I can be half as pretty as you at your age, I think I'll be very pleased!"

The crowd 'awwed' as one and Florence swooned.

"Oh my, she's a smooth one that's for sure. Now Maddy – may I call you Maddy?"

"Sure."

"Maddy, I do wonder if you're aware just how many heads you've turned already here in the Capitol; your Tribute Parade was all I heard anyone talk about for the last few days. How did it all come together so well?"

"Uhh... well I was kind of aware of the impact we'd made – one of the tributes brought it up the next day in training. But honestly, a lot of that comes down to our stylists Fingle, Sylvia and Alexis. They put in so much work and our outfits looked far beyond anything we imagined."

"Humble and giving credit where it's due; I'm liking this girl more and more. In fact, can we get a round of applause for the District 9 stylists? Because that really was something else."

The crowd were on their feet before she even finished.

"Absolutely regal outfits indeed," continued Florence, "But of course, you and your District partner Eamon played a part as well. I have to ask; did you plan that amongst yourselves or was it more 'spur of the moment'?"

"We planned it just before the Parade started, and nobody knew about it except us two. We were specifically told not to do stuff like that but uhh… neither of us are very good listeners as it turns out."

Florence laughed softly, "You obviously have a lot of trust in him then. I can't help but notice you using the words 'we' and 'our' a lot?"

"Yeah, we've known each other a long time. Back in District 9 he'd stay with us and he'd help around the house, help me with my homework. He's like a big brother to me and I just wanted the Capitol to see that."

A much longer, more sombre 'aww' rang out.

"That's actually really sweet to hear Maddy. I think we all thank you for allowing us that personal little snapshot. I take it he's been helping you?"

"Yup. I knew virtually nothing about the Games before the Reaping. Eamon and our mentor Nott knew a lot more and they've done everything they can since to make sure I'm ready."

"Well they've certainly done a stellar job! You, a 13-year-old girl who knew nothing about the Games five days ago, managed a score of 8. Now I don't want to get your hopes up, but from what I've been told, only two 13-year-old tributes in the history of the Games have managed a score of 8. How did this… transformation - for lack of a better word – happen?"

"There was a moment on the train where we were I watched a replay of an old Games and I guess I just realised that I can either give up and accept that that I've got no chance, or I can buck up and do everything I can."

"Good attitude. So, what did you show off in your Gamemaker session, if I might be so bold to ask?"

"Uhh, healing," said Madeline looking uncomfortable for the first time.

"Healing? Interesting. Why healing?"

"Well… I mean it's one thing to know how to swing a sword, the problem is everyone else does too. A cut or a bruise could end your Games just as easy as anything else if you don't know what to do about it."

It was a small lie, with enough logic behind it to make it seem believable. It wouldn't be good for sponsors to know that Madeline couldn't kill.

"Well-reasoned. Well-reasoned indeed. Alright Maddy we're almost out of time, anything you wish to say to loved ones back home?"

Tears formed in her eyes. With the constant hustle and bustle of the Games, she'd barely had time to think of her family. After a while, she managed to choke through her words. "Umm, to my mother and my little brother Douglas, I love you both a lot and I'll be home soon, I swear."

"Beautiful words from a beautiful girl," nodded Florence. "Ladies and gentlemen, Madeline Skylock of District 9!"

Madeline walked offstage, barely keeping it together. Eamon wanted to say something as she walked past, but knew she just needed to be by herself in her dressing room. He could not be prouder of her.

"Now we've just been talking about our next tribute, so if anything, he needs even less introduction. From District 9: Eamon Cunningham!"

He forced his legs to move and before he knew it, Eamon was out on center stage. The floodlights and applause threatened to overwhelm him at first, but he recovered and even managed to give a few short gestures to the crowd before greeting Florence. She was even more beautiful up close; he hoped he didn't stare.

"The Grain Duke himself," smiled Florence as he took his seat, "I've heard so much about you."

"Really?" chuckled Eamon slightly nervously, "I'm not sure whether to be scared or curious at that."

"Oh, nothing to be scared about at all, my dear. I want to start, if I may, with Madeline, whom I've just had the pleasure of meeting myself."

"Yeah, sure."

"Now she mentioned that the two of you have somewhat of a big-brother/little sister relationship. Would you say that's an accurate statement, from your perspective?"

"Absolutely. Obviously, she's not my actual sister, but she's as good as. I'm extremely proud of how well she's done so far, you've no idea."

"She's said you've been helping her out, giving her advice and such? It seems to have paid off, is that a reflection of your own skill perhaps?"

I'm not actually sure to be honest," he laughed genuinely for the first time, "Naturally, I'm older so I'm a lot more familiar with the Games and how they work, but I think most of that just comes down to her. We're at the point where I'm not sure I even need to give her advice anymore, she's… such a quick learner. At this rate, she'll be the one helping me before long!"

"Would she be the reason you volunteered? Bear in mind, you're the first volunteer out of District 9 in quite some years, you can understand we're all a bit interested."

Eamon knew questions of this nature would come up. He felt uncomfortable talking about them properly, but fortunately over the years, he had perfected the art of telling the minimal amount of truth that would satisfy the questioner.

"Amongst other things, yes. I didn't want her to go into this alone. I'd be kicking myself otherwise."

"What kind of other things?"

Eamon pondered his answer for a moment, "I guess I just felt more prepared than any other kid in District 9, least of all the boy that was actually reaped. No point in them going in and inevitably losing if I feel capable enough."

"Sound reasoning. Can't argue with that at all. But that's just one juicy item surrounding you that I wanted to discuss, Mr. Cunningham."

"I'm all ears," he grinned.

Florence leaned in excitedly, "Now I have very good sources on this young man, so don't you try and hide it. I've heard that over the course of training, you've been seen regularly talking in private with one of the female tributes."

Just when Eamon was starting to build his confidence during the interview, this intimation hit him like a train. He'd been prepared for all kinds of personal, yet generic questions but at this one he faltered. Especially given he'd never been one for that sort of gossip himself. The sudden buzz of the crowd wasn't helping. Was she referring to Blair? His mind flashed back to earlier when he was watching her interview; the burning feeling in his face and his urge to know things about her he really shouldn't have cared about otherwise…

He tried to stall for time to compose himself, "Well yeah, that would be Madeline. You spoke to her a few minutes ago," he smiled weakly.

"Oh no no no, you're not getting out of it that easily! I'm talking about a different girl from a different District. I'll keep her name just between us, don't you fret, but I have to ask, is there anything… going on there? Just a little, maybe?"

"Boys and girls get together all the time to talk about things. You know, alliances and so on."

"That's not quite the picture I've been painted," she pressed.

Eamon genuinely didn't know what to say except, "Sounds like quite a picture. I'll leave that one to your imagination then."

"Oh, you're a diplomatic one, aren't you?" she teased.

He forced another laugh, anything to regain his composure.

"I did have one more thing I wanted to ask you about before we end, and that is Nott Watson."

"Yeah, go for it."

"For those who don't know, Nott Watson won the 54th Hunger Games rather famously. He was brilliantly methodical, his tactics hitherto unseen. He was the previous District 9 Victor and now your mentor I believe?"

"That is true."

"And I believe he's also… your father?"

The audience was still buzzing from before and the din reached an even higher pitch with this revelation.

"Adoptive, yes," he corrected her. "We don't have the same last name obviously."

"We've had tributes before raised by previous Victors of course, but I have to ask, what's it been like to be raised by one of the greatest Victors in the illustrious history of our Games? Has he given you any tips? Was he an inspiration?"

Eamon sighed for a moment, "Tough questions. I definitely look up to him, but I didn't volunteer because of that, if that's what you mean. And yeah, he's given me plenty of advice, which is part of the reason I feel so capable. In some respects, I guess I'm more fortunate than others that way."

"Are you hoping to emulate his accomplishments?"

He thought about Madeline before answering, "You mean getting out of it alive? Well yeah, no kidding. But at the same time, I want to do my own thing. If that makes any sense."

"Of course," nodded Florence, without fully comprehending. "One last thing: anything you want to say to loved ones back home?"

 _Loved ones back home? I have no loved ones back home and this is all a facade anyway_ , he thought viciously.

The only person he could think of talking to was Leslie, as Madeline had done, but he thought better of it.

"I think some things are best left unsaid," he said gently.

"Fair enough. Ladies and gentlemen, Eamon Cunningham of District 9! We'll be right back with Districts 10, 11 and 12 after this brief intermission, don't go anywhere!"


	12. A Game Changer

Chapter 12.

"Laaaaaaaadies and gentlemen, the time is nigh! Please put your hands together for everyone's favourite Dynamic Duo, the Gurus of the Games – Malmedy and Primo!"

The odd couple strolled out on stage to a dazzling display of lights before a rapt audience's applause, Malmedy looking flamboyant as ever whilst Primo was his usual reserved self. They bowed with a wink to the cameras before taking their seats on the velvet lounge. A coffee table lay before them with a few sheets of notes and two glasses of water on it.

"Thank you!" said Malmedy finally, silence falling over the crowd like a blanket. "My my my, lovely reception as usual, you lot always know how to make a pair of goofy old Game buffs feel welcome."

"Oh, it's warm and fuzzy, isn't it just?" chuckled Primo. "But yes, to you here in the audience, at home, or watching from afar from humble Districts, welcome to Game Face, our yearly Hunger Games pre-show. Now the 68th Annual Hunger Games will take place in just under two hours, and the tributes are already en route to the arena as we speak. Malmedy, am I right in sensing a certain… something about this years Games? I'm not terribly sure what it is to be frank; a buzz, a zing, it's just got the right vibes you know?"

"I know exactly what you mean old friend. What we have this year, if scoring is anything to go by, is the most competitive field of tributes in a whopping twenty-five years. Last night we got to know the tributes a little better with the ravishing Ms. Whittaker, and everyone's clearly got a different mindset and a different approach about how to tackle the challenges they will surely face today. Lovely as it has been to get to know them however, there can only be one winner. Who will it be? Let's find out!"

"Now we have a jam-packed schedule this morning," Primo carried on once the applause died down again, "we have guest interviews, giveaways, competitions, form guides and so much more, so let's get this started right away, hmm?"

"Agreed Primo, now our first guest needs no introduction; you know him, you love him, our fiery-haired facilitator of festivities – Ambrose LaFleur!"

The Head Gamemaker in his usual pea coat joined Malmedy and Primo on stage, shaking their hands before taking his own seat.

"Ambrose, thank you for joining us once again, lovely to have you here," said Primo.

"Well I have to keep my attendance streak going somehow," Ambrose grinned. "Haven't missed Game Face once since I became Head Gamemaker and I don't plan on starting now!"

"Well quite right," mused Malmedy, "speaking of which, this would be your fifth year as Head Gamemaker I believe, so that's five appearances on Game Face obviously. Five years is a big milestone, how would you assess your time as Head Gamemaker? We know that when you were given the position, you mentioned having a lot of ideas on how to shake things up."

"I'm pretty satisfied all things considered. And apparently so is the big man; I'm pleased to confirm the rumours that President Bishop has indeed opted to renew my contract for at least another three years, which is a great vote of confidence."

Applause and congratulations from both the audience as well as Malmedy and Primo broke out.

"Thank you," he carried on. "And you're right, I did have a multitude of ideas on how to refresh the Hunger Games when I first came into this position, and we've managed to carry out the majority of them quite handily, even if they don't necessarily get done overnight."

"So, elaborate then if you wouldn't mind, what were your goals to 'refresh the Hunger Games'?"

"Well, our first priority was to take the Games back to basics. I've been watching the Games for as long as I can remember, and I have very… purist and artistic views on making them, if I do say so myself. But over the last twenty years or so, the Games have gotten crazier with the traps and the arenas. Not only is that not very cost-effective but it also takes away a lot of the skill component from the tributes. So much so did this influence things that as you may well remember there was a lot of criticism and suggestion that perhaps certain tributes were being targeted, or that their victories were just down to luck. So, I wanted to return to a simpler Games, and let the skill and adaptability of the tributes shine through.

"Yes… memories of the 61st Games still ring true unfortunately when you mention that," nodded Malmedy gravely. "I think we can all say that your philosophy has been a welcome return to form in that respect."

"Absolutely," elaborated Primo, "We've seen some incredible strategies and climactic endings these last few years, tributes interacting with the arena in interesting ways as well."

"Oh, I know where you're going with this Primo," laughed Ambrose, "You do it every year – no I can't give you any hints about this year's arena. You can wait two hours, mate."

"It was worth a shot."

"On that note though, that was another thing we wanted to achieve; make the arena interesting, but without necessarily overloading it with hazards, so we've put in little secrets and easter eggs in to reward exploration. Some years tributes find them and others they don't. Sometimes it helps them, other times not really. If you remember last years Dark Forest arena, there was a cemetery at the eastern edge with coffins and gravestones of the fallen tributes, and if you remember Cassandra Oakley from the 40th Hunger Games who famously dug a tunnel underneath the Cornucopia to steal supplies…"

"Don't tell me," started Malmedy.

"Most of the coffins were empty but hers had an underground tunnel that connected safely to the Cornucopia. Admittedly, nobody found it, but I thought it was a fun little secret nonetheless."

"Well how about that, you learn something every day," chuckled Malmedy, "I daresay we'll all be keeping an eagle eye out for where such other potential treasures lie in this year's arena."

"Indeed. Now there's another big area in which you've wanted to revamp isn't there? One that might perhaps be seeing its introduction in this year's Games?" said Primo with a wink.

"Ahh you've got me," said Ambrose, feigning a grimace. "So, part of my new philosophy on the Games in reintroducing the skill aspect involves getting the tributes to take risks on their own merit, but the question has always been how? It's a conundrum we really tried to get to the root of for some time and we realised that we need to offer incentives for taking such risks. Originally, we thought maybe to offer a free sponsorship gift for defeating another tribute but implementing that practically and balancing it well was a logistical nightmare. Meanwhile, we were also re-evaluating the premise of muttations and the notion came up that as long as you avoid them, you're fine. Even if a tribute manages to kill it somehow, they likely won't come out of such an encounter in good shape, which would leave a bitter taste in the mouth for such an impressive feat. Eventually we looked at both these issues and realised we could hit two birds with one stone."

"Incentives for defeating mutts?" asked Malmedy quizzically.

"You're catching on. It's taken years of development, but we've successfully started engineering mutts that have certain… properties. So, for hypothetical example let's imagine a Grabgrub – a classic mutt that's been used many times. Difficult to kill since they come out of the ground suddenly beneath your feet to attack, but imagine if, once they were dead, you could use them as say, a very effective bait? Would you then go out of your way to try and hunt them down? Would it be some reward for overcoming an unfortunate encounter?"

"That is… quite the undertaking. So that's what you're introducing this year?"

"Well not the Grabgrub necessarily," laughed Ambrose, "but something along those lines, yes. We haven't mentioned this to the tributes as we want to see if they can discover it for themselves this first year. Or their sponsor gifts can inform them about it, in which case we have no qualms with that either."

"I can't wait to see it in action," grinned Primo. "I already got a sneak peek at this year's mutt, but I'm sworn to secrecy until the Games start I'm afraid."

"Yeah, you weren't supposed to see it you bloody…" muttered Ambrose, causing everyone to laugh.

"Now, the last thing I want to talk to you about is this year's tributes, if I may," continued Malmedy, "As we mentioned earlier, based on scoring, this looks to be an incredibly competitive field this year. What are your impressions of them?"

"Well I mean, we _are_ the ones who gave those scores, so I think it's pretty clear what we think of them. Bad jokes aside though, I'll admit I was impressed. I don't pick favourites obviously – I'm not allowed to – but what was really interesting is that it wasn't just the skills they were showing us, but the way they showed them. Applying them in a practical sense, as if they were actually in the Games. To me, the level of engagement and initiative shows that the Districts are really embracing preparedness when it comes to these Games, which is great to see. Just remember though, scoring doesn't always give the full picture – if it did, there wouldn't be any need for the actual Games!"

"Wise words indeed. Well you have an incredibly busy schedule ahead of you, so we'll let you take your leave. Thank you so much for joining us, deliciously insightful as always. Any last words for our humble audience?

"May the odds be ever in your favour," Ambrose said simply.

"Well put. Thank you once again, we have much to look forward to, particularly for three more years at that. Alright, we're going to take a commercial break, but coming up we have our annual Hunger Hamper Giveaway and the lovely Florence Whittaker heads down to the Tigerseye VIP Suite to get the latest scoop from sponsors and esteemed guests. All this and more only here on Game Face, don't go anywhere!"

 **Wow. It has been some time since I've added a new chapter. Don't fret, I hadn't forgotten or abandoned it, just extremely busy with uni. But now I have some time off, so expect more chapters soon! And more good news, the Games will begin next chapter, so I hope you look forward to that! Interesting chapter to write, what did you think of Mr. LaFleur and his philosophy on simplifying for a more purist Games?**


	13. High or Low?

Chapter 13.

A jolt in his back told Eamon the hovercraft had reached its destination, and his heart sunk. Some small, deluded part of him had hoped that the hovercraft would fly forever, perhaps taking him and the rest of the tributes to a strange, faraway place where children weren't killed for entertainment. Well, he was partly right, at least.

Eamon watched as one by one, tributes were escorted to their underground Launch Rooms underneath the arena. He scratched his forearm where the Peacekeeper had injected the tracker and his mind wandered once more. He hadn't slept well that night, as was to be expected. Vivian and Fingle had been as accommodating as ever that morning, but Nott was nowhere to be seen. Eamon hadn't seen him since then. Was he busy? Had something happened? Or did he just not care enough to say goodbye? Was he still angry at Eamon? Even then, that didn't excuse him from not saying goodbye to Madeline.

He was interrupted from his poorly-timed paranoia as Madeline next to him was escorted none-too-gently to her room, where Sylvia would be waiting for her. He wished it was Fingle instead – he seemed to get on well with Madeline right from the start and would surely be able to help her keep calm. Moments later came his time to leave the relative safety of the hovercraft. When he arrived at his Launch Room, Alexis was already there and waiting. The room was small, but enough to contain a lounge, a locker, some food, a shower and a changing room. And of course, the tube in the corner that would elevate him to almost-certain death in a few minutes time.

"Hey," said Alexis looking up, "How you holding up?"

Eamon struggled for an answer, "How should I be holding up?"

She tried to respond but seemed to think better of it.

"I guess we should go over what you'll be wearing."

She laid out several items of clothing on the lounge, including an orange singlet top, black padded cargo pants, a pair of black and orange, half-finger, leather gloves, a belt with a pouch attached at the hip, and a pair of thick-treaded leather joggers.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"It won't be cold, that's for certain. They would have given you a jacket if it were. Lots of climbing gear though. Canyons, mountains, cliffs, lots of elevation change, that's my guess."

"Yeah that was my guess too."

District 9 was hardly abundant in rugged terrain, but the lack of familiarity didn't overly faze him. It could be much worse, after all. He went to go change, and when he came out, he indeed looked more likely to be going abseiling than killing.

"It's not the most protective, but it should do the trick," said Alexis, making a few adjustments.

He made a non-committal grunt and sat on the lounge with one eye on the tube, the other on the ticking clock on the wall.

Finally, it was time. A voice counted down from ten. Eamon made to step into the tube, his heart racing.

"Eamon," stammered Alexis, who had clearly been trying to find the right words to say since he walked in. "I realise I'm not exactly the first person you would want here, but for what it's worth, I still think you're probably District 9's best shot to win since Nott."

He laughed, but not unkindly, "If anything I'm District 9's worst shot to win."

And with that the platform began to rise, and Alexis disappeared from sight. Eamon looked up and a long way above him he could see bright blue, cloudless skies and a glimpse of the sun shining innocently. Suddenly eight years of training and a score of ten felt relatively miniscule in the grand scheme of things.

 _I have to stick to my procedures,_ he thought. _Let's see… There's a sixty second countdown; in the first fifteen seconds I have to get a feel for the arena and think of an exit strategy; the next fifteen – study who is positioned where; the next fifteen – check out the Cornucopia, decide if I want to go, and figure out what to go for. And then the final fifteen is the hardest – getting ready to run._

He had the sinking feeling he'd forgotten something important. Or maybe it was just overall anxiety. No-one wants to die after all, and certainly not like this.

His pedestal reached the surface and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. It was hot, but not overly so. Out of the corner of his eye, twenty-three other figures had similar reactions as they rose up out of the ground in a semi-circle formation.

The familiar sleek, horn-shaped structure of the Cornucopia was instantly recognisable, with various weapons, backpacks, containers and crates visible at its maw and even more deep inside. A neon-blue clock was projected just above it.

A deep, magnified voice boomed out over the arena, "The 68th Hunger Games will commence in one minute. May the odds be ever in your favour."

The clock began counting down from sixty. Eamon turned every which way, trying to take in every detail of the arena. They were boxed in on almost all sides by towering plateaus, mesas and mountains that pierced the sky, but there were slopes of a gentle enough gradient to run up. There were four passes in between mountains that seemed to lead down to a forest of deciduous overgrowth. The Cornucopia was nestled in a rugged valley that seemed to act as a mid-point between the two extremes. So, the question was… high or low? Offense or defense? It was a no-brainer, and yet, he still couldn't shake the feeling he was forgetting something.

Still the clock ticked down and Eamon's focus shifted to where the major players were positioned relative to him. Blair and Jasmine were next to each other on the far-left side of the semi-circle, four positions away from him. Axel was just two positions to his right, with Vesper right next to him. Hilda and Landon were a bit further down the line. He had hoped Madeline would be next to him, but no luck; she was on the far-right side, sandwiched between Dennis and Francesca, the high-scoring District 10 girl. She looked nervous, but her stance was firm and eyes fixed squarely on the Cornucopia. With a start, Eamon realised what he had forgotten that was so important: he and Madeline hadn't come up with a plan to meet after the Bloodbath, if they even survived that long. He'd just have to hope he could find her during the chaos.

With thirty seconds left and his mouth running dry, Eamon's attention turned to the Cornucopia. He scanned frantically for the glaive and as luck would have it, he spotted the polearm-like weapon stashed in the very depths of the horn alongside similar weapons. He could always use a lesser weapon it was true, but alas, the allure of his most proficient weapon was tempting him into the trap of the Cornucopia. His goal then, would be to reach the interior first, and then wing it from there.

His analysis was very much everything he'd rehearsing for years, but with fifteen seconds left it felt like that could all go horribly wrong in practice. Ten seconds. Seven. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Eamon had leapt off the pedestal on the count of one, but didn't land until after the cannon went off, thus avoiding triggering the mines planted in the base. This gave him a minor head start, but he wasn't thinking about the others. He wasn't thinking at all; just watching the entrance of the Cornucopia grow bigger and bigger until it swallowed him whole. Eamon had practiced the Cornucopia run before, but this was different. Nothing propelled him forward like the thought of the primal stampede surely closing in behind him. Slipping in between the assorted piles of loot, his hand reached out for the glaive resting peacefully in its rack, and that's when three things happened all at once.

A knife whizzed past him and embedded itself in the wall. A cannon rumbled, and for one time-stopping nanosecond, he thought that cannon had belonged to him. He grabbed the glaive and whipped around as another deep, magnified voice similar to the previous one announced, "District 12: Cecilia Moreau."

Eamon was face to face with the camel-faced Axel Costa. He didn't think he'd have to face a Career so soon. In cramped quarters such as these, the glaive was hardly in its element, so Eamon did the only thing he could. As Axel made to grab another knife lying on top of a crate, he lunged and drove the tip of the glaive straight into Axel's stomach. The sensation was like nothing he'd ever experienced. Axel dropped the knife instantly and looked down in horror, his mouth open in a noiseless scream. Eamon could feel the glaive sink through the flesh and pierce the squishy, soft matter inside; causing him to gag.

He yanked the glaive out with similar revulsion and as Axel collapsed, couldn't quite believe what he'd just done. Another cannon sounded, "District 1: Axel Costa."

Another cannon snapped him to his senses, "District 6: Ivanna Merchant," as he could briefly see Vesper Rhodes outside yank something silver out of the dead girl's throat, before escaping high up into the mountains. Seemingly no-one else had come inside, leading Eamon to believe Axel had come in to secure it for the Careers. And sure enough, they all seemed to be engaged in their own battles despite the broadcast of Axel's death, giving Eamon the slightest of reprieves.

With no time to waste, he hoisted a pair of backpacks lying on the ground onto each of his shoulders and wedged two lunchbox-sized containers containing who-knows-what between his back and the packs. He took the knife that Axel was about to use and crammed it in the pouch on his belt. The more he could gather for himself and Madeline, the better. But… where was she? There was no sign of her anywhere amongst the mass of orange-clad chaos.

In the midst of the melee, one of Eamon's suspicions was confirmed as Karmichael Damocles of District 5 pounced on a girl with uncanny speed and brutality for someone who'd scored only a three and not trained, causing, "District 8: Paige Delaney," to ring out over the arena. He saw Dennis and Hilda run the length of the Cornucopia chasing the District 3 girl, who seemed to have stolen something they wanted. To almost no surprise but maximum distaste, Landon was in the middle of the bedlam looking almost mirthful as he was crushing the skull of a now-unrecognisable boy with nothing but his bare fists. Only the cannon of, "District 8: Owen Magnussen:" identified him.

Eamon couldn't find Madeline anywhere, but something bizarre had caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Blair and Jasmine had seemingly made it not two steps away from their pedestals and were engaged in a violent-looking brawl in the dirt. He had no time left to spare in the Cornucopia as the horde grew smaller with each kill or tribute gone running. Eamon didn't hesitate. He lodged the glaive through the strap of his left pack and bolted back inside to grab the familiar pair of three-pronged weapons off a rack.

 _Time to go_ , he thought desperately. _I'll catch up with you soon Maddy._

As he ran towards the pair of writhing girls, Eamon felt a terrible shame about leaving Madeline to fend for herself. His only consolation was that he hadn't heard the sound of her cannon. If only he knew where she'd gone. If only he'd been more prepared…

At a few paces away, Eamon jumped and delivered a swift kick to Jasmine's ribs, causing her to keel over face-first, her striking platinum-blonde hair ruined in the dirt. He pulled Blair to her feet and for a second it appeared like she was about to attack him, until she recognised him. He thrust the sai and one of the backpacks into her hands and made for the pair of them to run off.

Blair looked back at Jasmine, "We need to kill her now," she said urgently.

"No time!" he said hurriedly. That wasn't true; there was just enough time, but Eamon didn't think he could stomach another kill after Axel.

They fled into one of the passes that led down into the forest where the trees would hopefully throw off anyone chasing them. As they did, another cannon exploded, "District 3: Zoey Townsend."

The passage leading down into the forests was steep and treacherous, causing them both to almost lose their footing multiple times. They didn't stop running one reaching its shelter however, and Blair had no problem keeping up with Eamon; if anything, he was struggling to keep up with her. Roots, rocks, vines and deciduous overgrowth slowed their pace, but not by much. They rounded a large corner at the base of one of the mountains bordering the Cornucopia and WHAM! Blair ran headfirst into another tribute. It was Spencer Nash – the District 7 boy. They both fell back, but Blair recovered quickly. Spencer recognised who they were and if he didn't appear terrified before, he certainly did now. It appeared he'd run straight from the Bloodbath without visiting the Cornucopia, but not fast enough.

"Please!" he cried desperately. "Take me with you! I can be your ally! Just please don't—"

Eamon had barely opened his mouth to respond when Blair shoved her sai through Spencer's throat. Eamon recoiled, and she none-too-gently placed her foot on Spencer's chest to pull her weapon free. Yet another cannon heralded, "District 7: Spencer Nash."

Blair grabbed Eamon by the wrist and began dragging him as far away as possible from the Bloodbath.

 **Well, the Games have begun, and the Bloodbath is over with as many questions raised as answers given. Here are the current placements:**

 **24th Place: Cecilia Moreau - District 12 Female. Killed by Hilda Blythe.**

 **23rd Place: Axel Costa - District 1 Male. Killed by Eamon Cunningham.**

 **22nd Place: Ivanna Merchant - District 6 Female. Killed by Vesper Rhodes.**

 **21st Place: Paige Delaney - District 8 Female. Killed by Karmichael Damocles.**

 **20th Place: Owen Magnussen - District 8 Male. Killed by Landon Starr.**

 **19th Place: Zoey Townsend - District 3 Female. Killed by Dennis Kessling.**

 **18th Place: Spencer Nash - District 7 Male. Killed by Blair Lynch.**

 **Let me know what you think! A lot of unknown tributes died, true, but there's no shortage of intriguing developments to take away from this chapter. Also, if you would like to get a better idea of what the arena should look like, let me know in a review, and I'll post a link to some pictures at the end of next chapter** **?**


	14. Helter Shelter

Chapter 14.

"District 10: Cooper Hastings."

Eamon had heard so many cannons he was starting to lose count of how many tributes were already gone. He and Blair continued on through the wilderness, but their pace had slowed considerably as they moved towards the outskirts of the arena. She kept ahead while Eamon trailed a few feet behind her, and as he looked at her long, dark hair, launched into a silent argument with himself about how little hesitation she had in killing the District 7 boy from earlier.

 _You didn't hesitate to kill Axel y'know,_ said a smarmy voice in his head.

 _I didn't have much choice._

 _Still, what did you expect? She's a Career!_

 _What did I expect? Something different. Or at least I hoped._

 _Best get those hopes out of here mate. Only one winner, you know that._

They stopped to take a breather at the base of a large oak tree. They placed their packs on the ground and shoved the food containers inside, without bothering to check what was in either. They would surely be on the move again just as soon. Eamon took the time to discuss what their plan was now.

"Find shelter, somewhere safe," she said simply. "Once we do we'll figure out what our next moves are."

Eamon nodded, "We must've run nearly two kilometres by now. Probably nearly at the edge."

"That'd explain the smell," she smirked, jerking her head at him.

"You're one to talk," he snorted. "You literally couldn't hold out two seconds at the Cornucopia before rolling around in th-" she cut him off by holding her hand up and frowning.

"What?" he asked.

"I hear something."

Eamon's hands tensed and reached instinctively for the glaive. But then he heard it too.

"It sounds like… water?"

"What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Water of course, was just as important as shelter on their priorities list at that moment. They grabbed their packs and followed the sound of trickling water downhill to the base of the nearest mountain, where it became a torrential roar. When they found its source, it took Eamon and Blair's breath away.

It was a spring of crystal-clear mountain water, bordered on almost all sides by towering, moss-covered cliffs. A rushing waterfall originating from a series of stepped stone formations high up in the mountains blanketed the far side of the spring in a sheet of water. The basin itself couldn't be more than a few metres deep, but was very wide and was ringed with slimy, slippery pointed rocks.

"Careful," said Eamon warily, "This could be a trap."

Blair agreed. She holstered her sai, took out her pack and rummaged through it, hoping to find what it was that she was looking for. At last she pulled out a clear water bottle, and scooped it through the basin, taking care not to touch the water. After it was filled, she held it up to the light and examined it for a few seconds.

"Water seems fine enough to drink, at least."

She took a swig of it while Eamon skirted the moist dirt around the outside of it, wondering if this place had any use as a shelter. Probably not, since anyone who heard the water like they had would come looking.

"We can't stay here unfortunately."

"Yeah, I was thinking something similar," Blair said, walking over.

"Unless you feel like taking a swim real quick."

She raised an eyebrow, "This isn't exactly a holiday."

"Come on," he grinned. "I didn't get swimwear as part of my clothes, I was just curious if you did, that's all."

She stared at him for a moment before placing her hand on his shoulder and pushing him. He tumbled over the stones and into the spring with an almighty splash. He emerged soaking wet and struggling to tread water (in truth he'd never done much swimming given that District 9 was a more inland District).

"A simple 'no' would have sufficed," he glared. A wry smile touched the corner of her mouth as she began looking through her pack once more.

Eamon made to get out and possibly dry himself off, but now that he was right up close to the waterfall he noticed something off about it. Visible between the tiniest of gaps in the stream of water, he could see something behind it. Before he'd assumed that there was just an expanse of rocky shelf behind it. He drew closer and submerged himself under the pounding torrent, and his eyes widened at what he saw. He pulled out of the waterfall quickly and called to Blair.

"I found something," he beckoned.

"Yeah nice try," she scoffed dismissively.

Eamon shrugged and dove back under the waterfall. When he disappeared from sight and didn't re-emerge, Blair was confused. After a few moments it dawned on her exactly what Eamon had found, and she pulled her pack over her shoulder before jumping in after him. Behind the waterfall… was a small entrance.

It sloped upwards slightly, but then flattened out and widened into a spacious cavern the size of a small bedroom. Eamon was already standing in it shaking out the water from his clothes. Oddly, the floor was not covered in sharp rocks or uneven dirt but was smooth like sandstone. The contours of the walls rippled and undulated and were covered in strange markings.

"I think this'll do," said Eamon simply, dropping his pack and regaining his breath.

"You sure no-one'll find it?" asked Blair.

"I didn't notice anything until I was right in front of the waterfall. You didn't either, right?"

She shook her head. Still stunned, she turned her attention to the markings covering the walls. "What's with these do you reckon?"

Eamon walked over to the wall slowly and examined them. "They almost look like… people fighting?"

"Looks like there's about sixty or seventy of them. I… I think these are previous Hunger Games. Or some kind of representation of them anyway. Why would they put this here?"

"Maybe they thought it was fun to put in. Or maybe they're proud of it," said Eamon bitterly, turning away.

A cannon exploded, and Eamon jumped. "District 5: Alys Redding."

The cannon reminded Eamon what they were doing here. He couldn't afford to be wasting time joking about swimming or admiring cave paintings when so much was on the line. And the sooner he could get out there and find Madeline, the better.

"Okay let's take stock of our situation and then we'll figure out what our next move is," he said, straightening up.

"Mhm. What's in your pack?"

Eamon opened it for the first time and pulled out a big, orange sleeping bag. At least he wouldn't have to sleep on nothing but stone. Next, he pulled out a pair of large pickaxe-like objects. At first, he thought they might be used for fishing, but the arena seemed devoid of large bodies of water.

"Climbing hooks," commented Blair. "We make stuff like that back in Two."

At that moment Eamon realised how… nice it was to have someone with similar life experience and training beside him. He'd never had much in the way of people to talk to. But this felt remarkably comforting. It was difficult to stomach the idea that he may have to kill her eventually.

"Water bottle," he continued, "I'll fill that up in a sec. And… oh jeez, really?"

He pulled out the last of his pack's items – a bar of soap and a roll of toilet paper.

"Hey, I'm definitely thankful for that, we might be here a while," she said, barely suppressing a giggle.

Eamon scowled and threw the toilet paper at her. "Go on, let's see what you've got."

She pulled out a coil of thick rope roughly ten metres long. "No wonder this damn thing was so heavy," she muttered.

Blair then removed her water bottle along with a set of matches and what appeared to be a glossy silver oil lamp.

"That's a bit old school," Eamon pointed out.

"Still… open flame should give us mild heat and good light," she pondered. "Looks like there's plenty of oil which is handy," she added, checking the filler cap.

"So, no food in either pack, which is a shame. Guess we're going to have live with whatever is in these," said Eamon, holding up the lunchbox container.

Blair nodded, taking out her own and opening it, "Mine has… two pork sausages and five slices of bread. You?"

"Three bananas and a tin of… rice pudding I think?"

"Not exactly a feast but we'll make it work, I guess."

Eamon nodded as he put all their gear to one side and went to the entrance to fill his bottle with water. It was still something at least. He imagined Madeline was out there with absolutely nothing. But he knew her survival skills were great, and if anyone could find food or water where there was none, it would be her.

"You know I never said thank you," said Blair suddenly. "You know, for before."

"What happened?" Eamon asked. "You and Jasmine looked like you barely made it off your platforms."

"Ehh… my place in their alliance was getting uneasy. They didn't want me. Fine by me; I didn't particularly want to be with them either, even if my mentor insisted. But it's still pretty clear they see me as a threat, so they wanted me gone early. So, Jasmine tackled me right away and I think she was just trying to hold me until the others were done. Landon's probably the one that set it all up."

"What's Landon's deal anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well you're his District partner, you probably know more about him than anyone. He seems… difficult. Any weaknesses? How'd he score that 11?"

Blair scoffed, "In his scoring session he asked for the biggest, strongest Peacekeeper they had on standby. And then he beat him half to death with his war hammer. Took three other peacekeepers to stop him from actually killing the guy."

Eamon recalled what Madeline had told him about the injured Peacekeeper she'd helped treat during her session. Landon had done _that_?

"So, he's freakishly strong and probably more than a bit crazy?"

"Not just that," said Blair, a dark look coming over her, "He's smart. Real smart. He's cunning and manipulative. That's how he turned the rest of them against me. He's good at getting people to do his dirty work and make it seem like a good idea. And all in a way where he appears to be innocent of anything wrong. He doesn't want me in the group not just because someone else from District 2 could steal his thunder, but because he figures I won't go along with whatever schemes he's got planned – and he's right of course. The rest of them? They might think they're all in a fair alliance, but really, they're just doing whatever he wants them to do.

"I see…" said Eamon slowly, mulling it all over. Landon sounded like the epitome of everything he'd been taught about Careers for years – only more extreme. And like Nott once said, he seemed arrogant, vain, and confident in his ability to plan. Maybe Eamon could use this to his advantage. Maybe.

"He's not the only one playing mind games though," he said casting his mind back to the Cornucopia, "You know Karmichael, the boy from 5?"

"The one who scored a 3?"

"Yeah it was a load of bullshit. Always thought there was something off about him. Saw him kill the girl from 8, he's got serious skills."

"Great. More competition to worry about."

"All the more reason to find Madeline. Preferably before the end of the day."

"Was wondering why you weren't with her," sighed Blair.

"Lost her at the Cornucopia. My own stupid fault too."

"Let me guess, now you want to run all the way back out there and find her?"

"I don't really have a choice."

"Sure, you do. And my answer is 'no' by the way."

"I wasn't asking."

"Well there's my answer anyway. We've just run two kilometres from certain death and I'm not about to go back out there and risk my neck, so you can find your little friend who will only hold us back."

She was starting to remind him of Nott.

"I can go and do it myself if need be."

"Well that sounds smart. You said you lost her. Any idea where to start looking?"

He was saved the embarrassment of having to weakly respond to that as their passive-aggressive bickering was interrupted by a noise outside. Both Eamon and Blair jumped up and started towards the entrance of their cave. It sounded like something… beeping? Whatever it was, it was getting closer. They couldn't see the source past the waterfall, but a small object landed in the middle of the spring with a splash, and suddenly they both realised what it was.

Eamon dove back into the warm waters and secured the sponsor container, dragging both it, and its parachute back to the cave. He noticed however that was alarmingly little light coming through the trees; was the sun setting already?

 _Nott, you idiot,_ thought Eamon bitterly. _Maddie needs this more than I do._

He re-emerged spluttering, soaking wet after he'd just managed to dry off from entering the cave the first time. Through watery eyes he noticed that the container actually had the number '2' branded on the side, meaning that this was in fact Blair's gift. He handed it over and went to shake himself dry.

Blair took the capsule, bewildered that her mentor had elected to spend this gift on her instead of Landon. It opened with a hiss to reveal… a thermos? It was warm to the touch. She poured a cup of its contents to discover that it was hot chocolate. Chocolate was such a rarity in Two, but hot chocolate was the ultimate treat for Blair. On the rare occasions she could savour it, it never failed to make her feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. She picked up the note from her mentor accompanying it.

Eamon looked back from drying himself off to see her stuffing the note into her pocket with a small yet beautiful smile on her face, and by what little light they had, a blush creeping into her cheeks. She looked up and saw him staring.

"Do you want some?" Blair asked kindly, offering him her cup. Their argument moments prior seemed almost forgotten.

"Umm… sure. Thanks."

It was rich and heavenly. They grew cocoa back in Nine of course, but he rarely got to taste it, even living with Nott. They finished their cup in silence before putting the thermos away again.

"You should get some sleep," said Eamon, nodding to the sleeping bag in the corner. "I'll wake you when it's my turn."

"What are you going to do in the meantime?"

It was getting late. Blair was right – he had no idea where Madeline could be and even if he did, he'd have even less chance finding her in the dark.

"I guess I'll read up on the history of the Hunger Games," he said, motioning to the markings on the wall.

 **24** **th** **Place: Cecilia Moreau - District 12 Female. Killed by Hilda Blythe.**

 **23** **rd** **Place: Axel Costa - District 1 Male. Killed by Eamon Cunningham.**

 **22** **nd** **Place: Ivanna Merchant - District 6 Female. Killed by Vesper Rhodes.**

 **21** **st** **Place: Paige Delaney - District 8 Female. Killed by Karmichael Damocles.**

 **20** **th** **Place: Owen Magnussen - District 8 Male. Killed by Landon Starr.**

 **19** **th** **Place: Zoey Townsend - District 3 Female. Killed by Dennis Kessling.**

 **18** **th** **Place: Spencer Nash - District 7 Male. Killed by Blair Lynch.**

 **17** **th** **Place: Cooper Hastings – District 10 Male. Killed by Karmichael Damocles.**

 **16** **th** **Place: Alys Redding – District 5 Female. Killed by Landon Starr.**

 **Bit of a slower chapter, with not as much action going on, but we're really getting into the good stuff now. What'd you think of the interaction between Blair and Eamon? Or the revelations about Landon? Next chapter is quite an intense POV chapter, so look forward to that. Also noticing my average chapter length is getting longer as I write in more detail so... yay? It does mean of course that each chapter takes a little longer, so i hope that's not an issue.  
**


	15. A Stoned Crow

Chapter 15.

Light faded quickly as the sun dipped below the skyline, a green tinge meeting it and the deep, dark blue beginning to take over, just as surely as hopelessness began to take over Madeline. The trees became as gossamer silhouettes of inky blackness and soon even the bark-strewn forest path she walked disappeared into the darkness as well.

How had things come to this? Here she was, out at night, alone, with no resources, no viable shelter, and all she'd had to eat since the Cornucopia was a vine of salmonberries (once she'd deemed them not poisonous). At least she'd been able to use her abilities in some meaningful way.

 _Who am I kidding, I know exactly how this happened,_ thought Madeline.

She cast her mind back to the Bloodbath. She'd known exactly what she wanted to do. She'd known she couldn't take on those other tributes. Maybe Eamon could, sure, but not her. Still, she'd steeled herself to make a run for one of the packs closest to her. After that, she'd wait on the outskirts for Eamon and try not to be seen. But when the countdown reached ten seconds to go, the gravity of everything had crashed down on her, similar to how it had when she'd been Reaped. Panic had seized control of her, and when the cannon went off, all she'd seen out of the corner of her eye as she turned and fled down one of the passes into the forest was Eamon being the clear first off his pedestal.

Madeline didn't know what had happened at the Bloodbath, all she knew now was that she was paying the price for her self-preservation. She was hungry, thirsty, tired and afraid. Granted she'd be all those things if Eamon were here anyway, but his presence could only change her entire situation for the better regardless. She wanted so desperately to sleep, however she knew that if she curled up then and there to close her eyes, she might not ever open them again.

And so, Madeline pressed on, looking for a nook or cranny of any sort to lay low for the night. That was when she heard it. At first she thought it was the phantom tweeting of a mockingjay ricocheting throughout the trees, but it sounded more… monotonous. She looked above her and gasped as the ethereal profile of a sponsor container floated gently down towards her, only distinguishable by the blinking red light on its top.

It landed with a gentle thud a few feet away, and as Madeline made to untangle it from its parachute, she wondered why Nott would spend this on her. She hated to admit it, but surely this gift would be better spent on Eamon? Now that she thought about it, she hadn't seen or heard from Nott since the night before, although it felt like so much longer. She was just glad he was still around, and that she wasn't as alone as she feared.

It opened with a hiss, revealing a clear, full water bottle. To anyone else, that would have been a paltry gift, but for Madeline it was sweet relief. She gulped down a quarter of its contents before fastening it to her belt. In her rush to quench her thirst, she'd almost forgotten that these gifts could come with messages from her mentor. Sure enough, a scrap of paper accompanied it, and only by squinting with the faintest amount of daylight at her back could she make out what it said:

 _You need this more than Eamon. He'll be looking for you, so you need to find a way to meet up with him. Can't say much more than that ~ N._

Madeline knew he was trying to be helpful, but it didn't stop her being annoyed that the message didn't tell her anything she hadn't already assumed. How was she going to find him, when he could be literally anywhere in this arena? She had just as much as chance of running into someone else or attracting unwanted attention and-

 _That's it!_ She thought excitedly. _How can I catch his attention and his attention alone? How do I make it so that he finds me and no-one else?_

Madeline's brain had gone into overdrive. There had to be a way of attracting attention that was only obvious to Eamon. That meant… something shared. What did she and Eamon have that nobody else did?

Well there was the obvious connection to their District, but she figured carving the number nine into rocks and trees was far from subtle. And then it clicked - grain. Everyone in District 9 was given a crash course on the bare basics of their District's industry from a young age. Namely the kinds of grain grown such as wheat and barley, how it grew, and how it was processed.

Madeline had been walking through the woods so long, she'd familiarised herself with the majority of the plants and trees in its midst, including the occasional patches of long, yellow-green rye stalks. She'd passed by many of them and until now, deemed them of little importance. She made a beeline for the last one she'd seen, some thirty paces away. When she found them, she pulled the stalks out by the dozen and tore them in half before stuffing them in the pouch at her hip until it was full.

"You little guys are going to help me win the Hunger Games," she muttered happily. "Or at least, I hope."

Madeline started laying the shredded stalks along the forest path, spacing out her trail so that it would hopefully cover enough of the arena for Eamon to stumble across. Anyone else might find it inconspicuous or mundane in the extreme, but anyone from District 9 would notice it in a heartbeat. She was counting on it.

She'd only been at it for a few minutes when she heard something that rocked her to the core. A noise. And not the kind of harmless noise of a scuttling lizard, or the salvation-bearing beeping of a sponsorship gift. Someone was nearby. Someone was coming down the forest path towards her.

Madeline's hopeful moment was snuffed out like a candle in an instant and replaced once more with the panic that so overwhelmed her at the Cornucopia. She quickly and stealthily made her way behind the thick trunk of a nearby beech tree. She was shaking. This was surely it. Eamon had been right, she should have learnt to use a weapon. She should have picked one up at the arena. At least that way she wouldn't go down so easily.

The footsteps grew louder as her would-be-assailant moved closer down the path to her hiding spot. Her trembling hand inched down towards a fist-sized rock at the base of the tree as her eyes began to water. They were just a few metres away; right on the other side of the tree…

Panic spurned Madeline's body into action without thought. She lunged out from behind the beech tree and launched herself at the shadowy figure. It was the District 3 boy, Timothy Crow. He whipped around at the noise, seemingly unaware the whole time that she was there, but it was too late. She whipped her fist clutching the rock right into the side of his skull and he fell over, blood streaming from the wound in his head. His backpack fell off in the struggle as she fell on top of him, unable to stop herself from bringing the rock down onto his face half a dozen more times. She wouldn't be out of danger until he was dead. At some point she'd burst into tears, and it wasn't until the booming sound of the cannon echoed forth, "District 3: Timothy Crow," that she jumped and scrabbled back in the dirt.

Madeline's hands were covered in blood and dirt, and she couldn't crawl back away from his body fast enough.

 _What have I…? No! I didn't mean… No! Please, he can't be… I was only trying to… Oh god!_

With tears streaming down her face, she grabbed the back pack that had fallen off and ran as far and fast away as she could, unable to escape the sight of the dead boy quick enough.

 **Short chapter, but very intense and emotional. Besides it was about time we got a Madeline POV. Goes to show that terror can drive even the sweetest little girl to do things she never imagined herself doing ):**

 **24** **th** **Place: Cecilia Moreau - District 12 Female. Killed by Hilda Blythe.**

 **23** **rd** **Place: Axel Costa - District 1 Male. Killed by Eamon Cunningham.**

 **22** **nd** **Place: Ivanna Merchant - District 6 Female. Killed by Vesper Rhodes.**

 **21** **st** **Place: Paige Delaney - District 8 Female. Killed by Karmichael Damocles.**

 **20** **th** **Place: Owen Magnussen - District 8 Male. Killed by Landon Starr.**

 **19** **th** **Place: Zoey Townsend - District 3 Female. Killed by Dennis Kessling.**

 **18** **th** **Place: Spencer Nash - District 7 Male. Killed by Blair Lynch.**

 **17** **th** **Place: Cooper Hastings – District 10 Male. Killed by Karmichael Damocles.**

 **16** **th** **Place: Alys Redding – District 5 Female. Killed by Landon Starr.**

 **15** **th** **Place: Timothy Crow – District 3 Male. Killed by Madeline Skylock.**


	16. Holdhorn for Dear Life

Chapter 16.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, night has well and truly fallen here on the first evening of the 68th Hunger Games," said Malmedy from his commentary booth.

"Indeed, it has," added Primo, "And with most of our tributes heading to sleep, so too will our coverage wrap up for tonight. But before we do, Malmedy, have any final thoughts on the events and stories that have come out of this first day?"

"Oh, do I ever!" smiled Malmedy, rubbing his hands together in excitement. "Let's kick things off with the start: that Bloodbath. Seven tributes lost immediately, with a further two gone not long after. All pretty par for the course I'd say, and most of the tributes who perished scored between 5 and 8, so the form guide seems to ring true for the most part."

"Quite right. And most of the tributes tipped to take a kill or two on this first day did just that. Both the District 2s took at least one kill, which is hardly surprising, given their track record and the capability of their tributes this year. Same goes for the District 4 pair and Vesper Rhodes of District 7, who of course, generally put up at least one potential winner each year."

"But that's effectively where the status quo ends, as there were a few anomalies in the chaos, weren't there?"

"As is sometimes the case. Surprisingly enough, a rather… sloppy showing from District 1 all things considered. Neither tribute got a kill today and Axel Costa was eliminated almost immediately. Jasmine Wilde got involved in frankly bizarre brawl almost instantaneously with Blair Lynch, which we later found out was the result of an allied plot – which we'll go into further in just a moment – and yet managed to come out of it worse, somehow."

"Agreed, not the form we've come to expect from District 1, although I think Axel's mistake was simply a case of 'wrong place, wrong time'. As for Jasmine, I concur, and I think if her and Blair's little scuffle had continued, she could very well have gone the same way as her District partner. If this was indeed the plot of an alliance to take down one of their biggest competitors, she needed help from her alliance and she didn't get it. But this does raise questions of if she can fend for herself, and if other tributes see it that way, they might seek to exploit that somehow."

"Moving on," said Primo taking a pause to look at his notes, "We have I think the biggest surprise of the day in Karmichael Damocles of District 5. Karmichael, who in case you've forgotten scored a meagre 3 in training, finds himself joining Landon Starr at the top of the kill list with two to his name."

"Yes, I think everyone had written him off early to be frank," acknowledged an impressed Malmedy. "Not just because of his score, but word from all camps was that he wasn't training at all, kept to himself and hardly communicated with his own mentor. It appears he was playing the long con; his first kill boasted tremendous vigour and speed, where his second was somewhat more tactical and stealthy. He's the dark horse in all of this now, no doubt in my mind."

"I believe the word you used at the time was 'ruthless'. Definitely one to watch. Moving on, we have the District 9 duo of Eamon Cunningham and Madeline Skylock. District 9 hasn't exactly had the best showings in recent years, yet Eamon and Madeline have each taken a kill."

"Cunningham's kill in particular was remarkable in taking out Axel, and in doing so, secured the innards of the Cornucopia for himself for a good chunk of time. What is slightly disappointing is that he had the chance to take out the other District 1 tribute of Jasmine – which would really have solidified his reputation in these Games – but he almost seemed to take pity on her or something, I'm not quite sure. For his sake, I hope such hesitation doesn't cost him in the future. Meanwhile, Madeline's kill was very much done out of self-preservation, but that's perfectly fine; she may look sweet as fairy floss, but it would seem she knows how to take care of herself if push comes to shove."

"Now one of the really intriguing developments this year, as we've already touched on, is alliances. And I think this ties into what Mr. LaFleur was saying earlier today about tributes being more prepared, or more tactically aware this year. Normally we have perhaps one or two alliances at any given time, and generally at least one is some combination of tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4. However this year we have what appears to be a whopping _four_ alliances! According to my notes, that many separate alliances is unprecedented in the entire history of the Hunger Games. Most alliances are pre-planned and don't typically come to fruition after the Bloodbath, but it all seems to have worked out for them so far."

"The biggest and most obvious alliance to no surprise, is that of the District 1, 2 and 4 tributes. From what we can gather this was meant to be a six-strong power squad, however Axel's early death and Blair Lynch's defection has somewhat weakened that line-up."

"And if what we overhead Blair saying is correct, then it appears there was a bit of dissension regarding her place in this alliance."

"Too many good tributes packed into one group can create endgame problems to be fair," argued Primo. "But it's interesting to hear that Landon Starr had issues with her. Now here's the wrench in the works – was the fight between her and Jasmine a suggestion from Landon, or did Jasmine initiate it of her own accord? Tough to say."

"One of our devoted fans messaged us earlier noting the common link in the weakening of that six-strong pack: Eamon Cunningham. He beat Axel and recruited Blair to create his own impressive alliance within moments of the Games starting. You have to wonder if that's just sheer luck, or brilliant opportunism and anticipating his opponents' tactics? You also have to wonder if Ms. Lynch is the girl Florence brought up in last nights' interviews?" Malmedy added with a wink.

Primo chuckled, "I think it's a bit of both to be honest. He did go to great lengths to save Lynch when he could have just as easily left her behind, so make of that what you will. I am however surprised that he didn't make more of an effort to team up with his District counterpart Madeline – they seemed so close on the Parade."

"Oh, don't remind me, I'm still holding out for a reunion at some point in these Games. How lovely would that be? Now, away from the politics of such power-packed unions is the District 11 alliance, Kale Fox and Nora Wormwood – those two of course mentioned to be close friends growing up, so it only makes sense for them to work together."

"While they may not be the most highly-rated pair, they seem to have good teamwork in their favour. But they did run from the Bloodbath, and don't have much in the way of supplies. They're going to need put in work tomorrow to change that."

"And the other alliance is the rather curious combination of Vesper Rhodes of District 7 and Francesca Durante of District 10. Unlike the others, this pairing seemed to have no prior planning, but was rather spur of the moment having bumped into each other a couple hours after the Bloodbath."

"Yeah, I think Vesper and Francesca recognised each other's abilities; both of them obviously scoring very highly in training. Vesper's elder brother Remy of course, winner of the 65th Hunger Games is here at the Tigerseye VIP Lounge, mentoring her to a hopeful Hunger Games victory of her own. Good to see Remy here again. On paper this pair of fatal femmes should go far and yet, call it commentator's curse, but I have a bad feeling that things won't be quite so breezy for them. Not sure why, but there you go."

"You tend to have a sixth sense for that sort of thing, don't you Primo?" chortled Malmedy. "Every year you make one or two bold predictions and unfortunately for Vesper and Francesca you tend to be right more often than wrong."

"For their sakes, I hope I am wrong," laughed Primo in kind. "Well that would wrap us up on the alliance count, now I wanted to have a talk about the arena if I may. It's no great shock that it looks gorgeous – it's a LaFleur arena after all. It appears around two-thirds of it consists of rugged mountains, mesas and so on, while the remainder is forests and valleys. What do you think?"

"I think artists will be taking trips there for many a year after this! It certainly follows the 'form over function' philosophy of LaFleur that we've come to know and love, and yet, there's still much for the tributes to bear in mind when forming their strategies. The plateaus makes for a good offensive standpoint with the high ground advantage, while the woods down below provide more stealth and natural resources. What caught my eye however is that, unless I'm very much mistaken, Ms. Lynch and Mr. Cunningham stumbled onto one of LaFleur's special arena secrets with that cave behind the waterfall. Other than that, we haven't really seen much of what the Gamemakers have planned for this arena."

"That's true, although in recent years we generally haven't seen Gamemaker interference for the first day or so. I imagine it'll come in due time."

"Indeed. Well I think that's all we really have time for tonight. Thank you all for-"

"Oh!" exclaimed Primo suddenly, pointing towards one of the monitors excitedly. "Hang on a moment folks, we're not done yet!

They watched on intently as one of the many cameras focused in on a boy following a shadowy creature up the precarious side of a moonlit canyon.

"That appears to be… Harvey Goodwin of District 12," noted Malmedy keenly. "He seems to be the only tribute still awake and active. Not sure if climbing a mountain in the dead of night is a wise idea Primo. More importantly, what's that thing he's shadowing so carefully?"

"Ooh," said Primo enthusiastically rubbing his hands together. "Ok, I feel like I'm allowed to talk about this now. What you see here dear viewers is the muttation that Mr. LaFleur was discussing so fondly on Game Face earlier – this is the Holdhorn!"

Malmedy's eyebrows raised nearly into his eccentric hairline as he squinted to get a better look. "But what is it?"

"It's based off an ordinary mountain goat. It has great instincts in finding safe paths through these treacherous peaks and cliffs, and it looks very innocent and inconspicuous as it does so. The idea is that it lures tributes through paths in the mountains that it can cross but knows the tributes cannot. Or it leads them along only to turn around and charge them straight off the side of the mountain."

"Wow, that sounds awfully deceitful for a mutt!"

"And it appears that young Harvey is falling for that deceit. I shudder to think how this might end for him. In addition, Holdhorns have a number of strengths: they're quite clever, extremely strong, and underneath their thick, woollen hides their skin is tough, like rubbery armour."

"That sounds like an unpleasantly powerful combination of traits. Didn't Mr. LaFleur speak of being able to kill mutts this year?"

"He certainly did, and they're not without their weaknesses. Their thick skin doesn't protect the entirety of their bodies of course, and even though they're powerful, most tributes should be able to move faster than it, although there isn't much room to move where Holdhorns tend to inhabit."

Harvey continued to follow the creature up the side of the canyon as its form was exposed by the moonlight. It was huge and muscular, although its heavy down of snow white fluff hid its strength well. Its amber horns glinted as did its pitch-black eyes as it focused on the slope in front of it. If it knew Harvey was following it, the Holdhorn hid it well.

"There's some kind of reward for slaying this beast though, right?" asked Malmedy curiously.

"Mhm, and it's a very precious one at that. You see Holdhorn meat is extremely hearty and cooking it over an open fire releases some incredible medicinal properties. Eating a strip or two of that should be able to heal most wounds and injuries short of a severed hand. Small wonder it took them so many years of development. This… This is quite a step in the evolution of the Hunger Games right here, folks."

The Holdhorn had made it up the steep slope. Harvey made to follow it, but only upon reaching the top did he realise the depth of his mistake. It had turned around, waited for him before lowering its horns and launching him back down the slope and off the side of the cliff face. Eventually he hit the ground with a sickening crunch. A cannon boomed over the hushed night of the arena, "District 12: Harvey Goodwin."

"Wow," said a stunned Malmedy, crossing off something on his notes. "That is… that is a mutt alright. At least we got to witness that before we ended our coverage for the evening. So that makes eleven tributes gone on the first day. Districts 3, 8 and 12 have now lost both tributes, while Districts 2, 4, 9 and 11 still have both. All others still have one remaining."

"And on that cliff-hanger – pardon the pun – it is now really time to end off our coverage for the evening. Thank you for joining us, it's been a riveting start to these 68th Hunger Games. Our full coverage will resume tomorrow at 8:30am, so join us back then for day two. But if you're still hungry for more Hunger Games, don't forget we still have real-time live tracking and text commentary to keep you updated during the night shift. In addition, we'll also be airing a full replay of the first day's events right after this. Until next time, may the odds be ever in your favour!"

 **I really enjoyed writing this chapter, as it gives us a bit of chance to see the Games from a spectator's perspective. And we get to see what kind of stories are going on with other tributes that we haven't focused on much. Something I like writing about this is that there's multiple stories happening and evolving simultaneously and hopefully you'll see more what I mean by that in future chapters. I like writing Malmedy and Primo as though they're commentating a proper sporting event in the real world as well. So, it did recap some stuff we already knew, but also shed light on plenty of new things like the alliances and the Holdhorn. Speaking of which, what'd you think of the Holdhorn as a mutt? There won't be chapters like this in the future, so if you didn't really care for it, that's fine, I'll be getting straight back into the action next chapter.**

 **24** **th** **Place: Cecilia Moreau - District 12 Female. Killed by Hilda Blythe.**

 **23** **rd** **Place: Axel Costa - District 1 Male. Killed by Eamon Cunningham.**

 **22** **nd** **Place: Ivanna Merchant - District 6 Female. Killed by Vesper Rhodes.**

 **21** **st** **Place: Paige Delaney - District 8 Female. Killed by Karmichael Damocles.**

 **20** **th** **Place: Owen Magnussen - District 8 Male. Killed by Landon Starr.**

 **19** **th** **Place: Zoey Townsend - District 3 Female. Killed by Dennis Kessling.**

 **18** **th** **Place: Spencer Nash - District 7 Male. Killed by Blair Lynch.**

 **17** **th** **Place: Cooper Hastings – District 10 Male. Killed by Karmichael Damocles.**

 **16** **th** **Place: Alys Redding – District 5 Female. Killed by Landon Starr.**

 **15** **th** **Place: Timothy Crow – District 3 Male. Killed by Madeline Skylock.**

1 **4** **th** **Place: Harvey Goodwin – District 12 Male. Killed by Holdhorn.**


	17. Backstab

Chapter 17.

"Eamon! Eamon get up!"

The voice hissed through the darkness and woke Eamon like a whip crack. His arm flew to the glaive beside him and he pointed its tip squarely at the source. For the last four years, Nott had trained him to sleep with a weapon and would occasionally wake Eamon up in the night to test his vigilance. As his senses adjusted, he realised he was still in the cave with the pounding of the waterfall audible just outside the entrance. Eamon also realised his glaive was pointed at Blair, who didn't seem to flinch. In fact, she seemed mildly amused.

"Well, you're clearly not a morning person," she muttered. "Good to know. Now get up but be quiet."

Eamon was alert and awake in a matter of moments. The memories of the previous night came back to him as he recalled Blair waking upon hearing the cannon of the District 12 boy and taking over watch duty whilst he slept. He crept out of the sleeping bag but held his glaive aloft as something about the situation seemed off. Blair had moved to the cavern entrance with both her sai out; she seemed to be concentrating on hearing something.

"What's going on?" whispered Eamon.

"I hear voices. Not sure whose. Hard to tell with this damn waterfall."

Eamon gripped the handle of the glaive tighter and strained his ears. The sound of birds chirping innocently and what little light filtered through the entrance told him it was a few hours past sunrise. Whoever the voices belonged to had clearly gotten an early start on the day.

"You think they know we're here?"

"Doubt it. They've been here a few minutes now and this place is almost invisible."

"How many voices?"

"Two, I think. Maybe more."

Eamon hoped not. Any more than two would likely mean it was the Career pack. Strong though he and Blair were, he didn't fancy their chances in a fight where they'd be outnumbered two to one.

"Might be fish in here," said a young boy's voice. Eamon looked cautiously at Blair and nodded.

"Please Kale," said a girl, her voice cutting out now and then. "Something about this place just feels off. I want to get out of here."

"Kale," muttered Eamon. "That's the 11 boy."

"Probably the 11 girl with him. Doubt they'd be with anyone we should be worried about," murmured Blair.

Eamon wasn't sure he liked where Blair was going with this. To kill in self-defense was one thing, but to go out and hunt in cold blood, particularly against kids who likely just wanted to curl up and hide, was another thing entirely. But before he could open his mouth to object, Blair had already dived into the cool spring water and begun swimming through the cave entrance to the waterfall, sai at the ready.

"Come on, let's go get them!"

Eamon cursed and made to follow her in, unsure of what exactly it was he was going to do. He didn't know how she'd react if he made to stop her, or refrained from helping her, yet killing for the sake of killing went against everything he stood for. Up ahead, Blair burst out of the waterfall and into the sunlight-drenched spring. Two screams were barely audible as Eamon too emerged from the waterfall. The dark-skinned figures of Kale Fox and Nora Wormwood ran for the gap in the moss-covered cliffs as Blair tossed one of her sai at them and barely missed.

They fled back into the forest just as Blair climbed out, followed by Eamon, their clothes soaking wet. She retrieved her weapon from where it was buried in the stone and bolted after them. Kale and Nora split up, with Kale heading north and Nora heading east. Blair looked back and forth, rapidly discerning which way to go.

"They've split," she said quickly as Eamon caught up. "I'll get the girl, you get the other one. He's gone that way."

Before he could say a word she ran down into the valley after Nora. Once again, Eamon cursed and looked left in the direction she'd pointed and saw the outline of Kale stumbling up the hill some thirty paces ahead of him.

 _Why the hell am I doing this?_ Eamon thought bitterly to himself as he chased after him.

It was a steep climb, but Eamon rapidly began gaining ground. Kale looked over his shoulder several times and the fear in his eyes increased almost exponentially. He knew he couldn't outrun this. His angst got the best of him and when he looked over his shoulder again he tripped over an unseen tree root. Nearing the crumpled, panicked District 11 boy, Eamon slowed his pace down, knowing that it was over.

He didn't cry, but Kale's eyes were wide and darting all over the place as Eamon stood over him. Pity and self-loathing welled up inside Eamon. His pragmatic side told him to hurry up and get on with it, that it was part of the Games. But every other part of him said otherwise. A low wail came out of Kale's mouth and he closed his eyes as Eamon raised the glaive over his head…

And planted it firmly in the dirt. "Fucking hell," he growled, clenching his teeth.

Kale opened his eyes in surprise when the killing blow he expected never came. He slowly raised himself off the ground.

"Hey, I didn't say you could go anywhere kid," said Eamon shortly. "It's Kale, right?" Kale nodded, still fearful.

Eamon looked at him, unsure of what to do. Let him go? If he could catch Kale so easily, he doubted it would be too difficult for someone – or worse, _something_ – to do the same. Plus, he hardly seemed like the kind of tribute to go on and win outright, and yet, wasn't that the entire point of volunteering? So that he could help the kids who don't have a chance go home?

He sighed and sat down next to Kale in the dirt. "Can I ask you something Kale?" Kale nodded again, still shaking. "Do you reckon you can win this whole thing?"

"I d-don't understand… w-what do you mean?" his voice quavered.

"I want to make you an offer. To tell you the truth, I don't want to kill you. I want to know if you honestly think you can win these Games. Even though there's still so many strong tributes out there and god only knows what the Gamemakers have planned. If you can honestly tell me that you have no doubts that you think you can win this, I'll let you go. But if you have any doubts at all, I'll make sure to give you the most painless death anyone could ask for. Because if I let you run off and someone else gets you, it won't be pleasant."

Kale looked like he was about to throw up. Eamon knew this kid couldn't win, but he at least wanted to give him a choice, a chance. It wasn't a choice he liked giving; how could a boy that young be expected to make or even understand such a choice?

"Please no… Please I don't want to," he shuddered. "Just let me go please!"

"Can you win?"

"Y-yes… Of course, I can… Just let me go and I'll win." he stammered, avoiding Eamon's eyes.

Eamon closed his eyes. Of course Kale was going to say that. Even if the odds were a million to one, a scared kid would rather bank on that astronomical long-shot than admit he has no chance. Even if he was offering something to spare the pain of his inevitable loss. And Eamon could tell Kale didn't really believe he could win.

"You sure?"

"Yes, I know I can."

Eamon opened his eyes and stood up. "Okay," he said simply. He extended Kale a hand and helped him to his feet. He pulled the glaive out of the ground and Kale flinched, fearing the worst. Eamon pointed the glaive further north, towards the towering highlands.

"Head that way. Stay away from the center. Probably other alliances there too."

"W-wait what?" he stammered. "What about my friend? What about Nora?"

Eamon looked over his shoulder into the valley below, slightly confused. Nora's cannon hadn't sounded yet. Blair was taking longer than he would have expected.

"I don't really have any say on that," he said uncomfortably. "Sorry to say if she's not dead yet, she will be soon."

Kale's face scrunched up as tears rolled down his face. Eamon put a hand on his shoulder and said kindly, "Hey, you're going to win this, right? Why don't you win for her? Go on."

Kale looked up at him and simply whispered, "Thank you."

He turned around and made to head in the direction Eamon had pointed. Once he had, Eamon took the glaive and thrust it right through Kale's back. A quick cry of surprise was all that escaped him. Again, that repulsive sensation of weapon meeting organ and muscle ran up Eamon's arm and through his entire being. It mingled with his sadness and shame, and he knew that if in some bizarre circumstance he did end up winning, District 11 would despise him for a long time to come.

The cannon came instantly. "District 11: Kale Fox."

He pulled the glaive out of Kale's lifeless body and laid the short, dark-skinned boy face-up on the ground. Blood stained his bright orange singlet and began to pool on the ground under him. Eamon's hands were covered in it.

"Sorry kid," he muttered. "We both know you didn't really think you could do it. Wouldn't have been painless if you knew it was coming."

Eamon allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts for a moment before realising that Nora's cannon still hadn't sounded. He started back down the hill towards the spring, thinking that if Nora had escaped, Blair would probably have gone back there. But she wasn't there. Suddenly he heard a bloodcurdling scream. A girl's scream.

Eamon sprinted as fast as he could towards the source. More screams came from near where they had found the trickling stream that had led them to the spring on the first day. Had Nora somehow got the better of Blair? Was it another girl entirely? He saw two outlines in a clearing up ahead, one on the ground incapable of moving and another standing above them, triumphant.

"Aww, what's the matter? Does hiding in a corner only get you so far?" said Blair in a slightly mocking tone.

Blair's sai plunged into Nora's forearm, pinning it to the ground as blood squirted out in great rivulets. Another horrifying scream. Her left hand was already pinned to the ground by Blair's other sai. Eamon almost gagged, but now his shame at killing Kale was replaced by white-hot anger. He ran up to her and Blair turned around at the sound of the commotion.

"Oh hey Eamon," she said matter-of-factly. "All good? I'll be done in a second, this one gave me a bit of the slip."

He stormed over and grasped Blair's hand firmly, yanking the sai out of Nora with another mangled cry of pain. The were other puncture marks in her flesh where Blair's sai had pierced, but nowhere fatal. He forced Blair's hand clutching the sai into Nora's heart. The screams and heavy breathing stopped at once and a second cannon declared, "District 11: Nora Wormwood."

"Eamon, what the hell gives?" started Blair, wresting her hand out of his.

"Funny, I was about to ask you the same question!" he shot back. "I've just been stressing myself crazy about how to kill that kid in the most painless way possible and here you are freaking torturing a little girl?

"It's called taking pride in the kill," she said defensively, seemingly unable to comprehend why Eamon was angry. "It's what I've been trained for."

"I don't care how much pride you take in your kill, you don't do… whatever the heck that was," he gestured wildly at Nora's body. "Not with me you don't."

"Why though?"

"Because these kids aren't here by choice, they didn't sign up for this shit! Imagine if that had been you and some sick bastard was standing over you, hurting you, mocking you unnecessarily. Would you care about pride then?"

Blair seemed so taken aback by this sudden confrontation that she didn't have an answer, and Eamon was too livid to wait for one. He made to walk off, before turning back to look at her.

"Well? You coming or what?"

Blair's expression was unreadable as it usually was but also tinged with something else. Curiosity? Confusion? Concern? She looked to Nora's body and then back to Eamon before nodding once and following him back, albeit keeping her distance somewhat.

 _Should've seen that coming_ , _you knew they all do that sort of thing_ , said the impish voice in his head. Eamon ignored such thoughts like irksome flies as he made his way back to the cave.

 **Half the field down, half to go. Tension, turmoil and drama aplenty here in Chapter 17. And it's only going to ramp up from here.**

 **24** **th** **Place: Cecilia Moreau - District 12 Female. Killed by Hilda Blythe.**

 **23** **rd** **Place: Axel Costa - District 1 Male. Killed by Eamon Cunningham.**

 **22** **nd** **Place: Ivanna Merchant - District 6 Female. Killed by Vesper Rhodes.**

 **21** **st** **Place: Paige Delaney - District 8 Female. Killed by Karmichael Damocles.**

 **20** **th** **Place: Owen Magnussen - District 8 Male. Killed by Landon Starr.**

 **19** **th** **Place: Zoey Townsend - District 3 Female. Killed by Dennis Kessling.**

 **18** **th** **Place: Spencer Nash - District 7 Male. Killed by Blair Lynch.**

 **17** **th** **Place: Cooper Hastings – District 10 Male. Killed by Karmichael Damocles.**

 **16** **th** **Place: Alys Redding – District 5 Female. Killed by Landon Starr.**

 **15** **th** **Place: Timothy Crow – District 3 Male. Killed by Madeline Skylock.**

 **14** **th** **Place: Harvey Goodwin – District 12 Male. Killed by Holdhorn.**

 **13** **th** **Place: Kale Fox – District 11 Male. Killed by Eamon Cunningham.**

 **12** **th** **Place: Nora Wormwood. District 11 Female. Killed by Blair Lynch.**


	18. V For Vesper

Chapter 18.

Eamon and Blair spent the rest of the morning at a distance, with Eamon silently but vigorously venting his frustration inside the cave, while Blair remained outside. What she was doing, Eamon didn't know nor did he particularly care. He'd hoped that Blair was different from other Careers. The entire ordeal had left a bad taste in his mouth and now he wasn't sure what to do next.

Just as he was sitting down to figure things out, Blair's head appeared through the waterfall.

"Eamon, can you come out here? I need your help with something," she said, avoiding looking at him before disappearing from view again.

Eamon gritted his teeth; he didn't particularly care to help her at the moment. But he got up all the same. What could possibly be giving someone who was clearly so capable a hard time? He emerged from the cave and a wave of heat washed over him with the sun burning brightly directly overhead. Blair was standing at the edge of the spring, concentrating on drawing something in the soft dirt with a stick.

Eamon dried himself off quickly and walked over to her. "What's the problem?" he said shortly.

"The problem is that we need to move. It's too cosy here, the Gamemakers will kick us out before long. And I doubt they'll be particularly polite about it."

"So what's this for?" he asked, motioning to the symbols and shapes etched into the dirt at her feet.

"It's a map. Sort of. Only the bits of the arena I can remember. This is why I need your help." She took a deep breath before continuing, still avoiding his gaze. "Half the tributes are gone, but most of the best ones are still here. We need all the help we can get, and anyone that's made it this far has got to have some skill at least. Which is why, since we're leaving anyway… I'm willing to help look for your friend. Madeline." The last word seemed to get stuck in her throat.

Eamon almost stumbled at those words. Whilst he was still angry at her, a large chunk of that anger was now replaced with shock and confusion. "Wait, really? But how? You said it yourself, I have no idea where she is."

She tapped the map with the stick in response and Eamon took a closer look, still bewildered by Blair's sudden change of heart on a subject she was insistent on just the previous night. A large circle encompassed a bunch of other shapes.  
"This is the Cornucopia," she said, tapping a triangle in the center of the circle with a semi-circle just underneath it. "Assuming it's in the middle and that the tail points north, which is usually how it works. And just beneath it are the ring of pedestals."

"I assume these are those big mesas and mountains," said Eamon, pointing to four expansive blob-like shapes north, south, east and west of the triangle.  
"Mhm. There's more that seem to make up most of the arena, but I haven't mapped those yet. Then you've got these branching forests that fill the gaps between them. On the outskirts they get a bit more open, which is where we are. Hard to say for sure though, I've only mapped to the southwest because that's the way we came."  
"I'm not really following though," said Eamon slowly, "I mean, if you need my help to fill in the rest of the map that's kinda…"

"No not that, but I think I've figured out a way to help us find her. I just need to know if you know where she was on the pedestals at the Bloodbath. Because I wasn't watching her."

"Uhh… she was on the far right-hand side I think?"

Blair made a mark on the semi-circle. "So if she turned around and ran straight away, she's probably somewhere on the east side of the arena, right?"

"That's a lot of ground to cover…"

"I know… okay, would she have gone into the forests or the mountains do you think?"

"Forests, no question. Same as us. It's not as exposed."

"Okay, so in that case we should make our way along the perimeter, hit up the southeast section and then the northeast."

"If you say so, it's your plan."

"Alright, well let's pack what we need and get the hell out of here."

It was still bizarre for Eamon to see Blair going to such lengths for Madeline when she'd been so apathetic towards her earlier. What could possibly…? And then two explanations hit him at the same time. Either it was a ruse, which if it was, he couldn't fathom what she'd get out of it… or it was her way of apologising for her actions earlier. Blair didn't strike him as the type of person to openly say sorry, and whilst it hardly made up for what she'd done, perhaps there was still hope for her after all.

To ease their burden, Eamon and Blair packed only the essentials, leaving behind the lantern, the soap and the climbing hooks – they could always come back for them. After a paltry lunch of a banana each, they refilled their water bottles and bid farewell to the spring. The spring had provided a sense of recluse and tranquillity, but as they began moving eastward through the trees they were drawn very much back into the reality of the Games. The pace was slow, and their body language stiffened as every inexplicable sound was like a crack of thunder signalling imminent assault.

Eventually, the tension eased off, although the pair of them still refused to let down their guard. They weren't really sure what, if anything, they were meant to be looking for, and soon enough, began to fill the time talking about themselves. They talked about what their preparation for the Games had been like, which to anyone else it might have seemed trivial considering the circumstances, but Eamon enjoyed it anyway. Blair was still a curiosity that he simply couldn't wrap his head around; her fallout with the other Careers, her impressions of him, his feelings while watching her interview with Florence Whittaker, the hot chocolate they'd shared in the cave, and now relenting to look for Madeline. And yet, despite her brutish attack on Nora, he got the distinct impression that she wasn't inherently malicious like he'd been led to believe of Careers. More so that she still had morals and doubts but being trained in the ruthless academies of District 2 had left its mark. Indeed, of all the things Nott had prepared Eamon for, she was not one of them.

They were beginning to skirt the base of the huge, rocky mountain range south of the Cornucopia when Eamon flung out an arm to stop Blair from continuing. Something on the ground had caught his attention. He leaned down to pick up the thin, broken strand of a yellow-green plant and held it up at eye level.

"What is it?" asked a clearly perplexed Blair.

"Confirmation," grinned Eamon. "We've found her."

"Err… what?"

"This is rye grain. It grows in patches out here, but this little guy has been shredded up and thrown on the ground all by his lonesome. By a person, not nature," he added.

"What are you talking about Eamon? It's just a plant on the ground, there's tons of them. That's about as much confirmation as that twig over there."

"Which is what anyone who isn't from District 9 would think. However to anyone who is from District 9, this may as well be a giant, glowing billboard. That, and I noticed like, two more just like this one evenly spaced apart back that way," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction they'd come from. "Didn't want to say anything 'till I was sure."

"Eamon I still don't-"

"It's a trail," he said with a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. "She threw grain stalks on the ground knowing I'd be the only one to recognize it. If we keep going in this direction we'll find more. If we don't, I'll admit you're right and we'll move on, sound fair?"

Nonplussed, Blair nodded and followed suit. Sure enough, twenty paces up ahead, another discarded rye stalk lay in the road. Blair was still unconvinced, but they continued anyway. After all, it wasn't like they had any other leads. But just as Eamon was beginning to get hopeful, a sight a few meters up the trail drained that hope away.

"Okay," said Blair seriously, crouching down with him to look at it. "I think you might have a point."

A number of similarly shredded stalks were dyed scarlet in a pool of dried blood. There were other pools, streaks and droplets of the stuff nearby. A big fight had clearly gone down here. Eamon's hands began to shake he considered the possibilities, unable to help himself from starting with the worst.

"It's definitely her but she's not dead," said Blair uneasily, trying to reassure him. "Her cannon hasn't gone off. If she fought someone, it's possible she came off better."

"Madeline wouldn't kill someone. No way."

"Neither would you, if you could avoid it. She might've if she didn't feel she had a choice."

"Or she could be injured," he said flatly.

Blair shifted uncomfortably, "Yeah… I didn't really want to say that though. If she is injured we need to move quickly."

She helped Eamon to his feet before looking around and sighing, "Blood trail goes off in this direction. If she did get in a fight she might've run for a while without leaving the trail." Eamon nodded, clearly uneasy.

They kept moving, although the droplets of blood on the ground soon became scarce. It took them another twenty minutes of combing the area to find the trail of rye again, at which point they had barely over an hour of daylight left. And it only got worse from there.

"This leads into the mountains," said Eamon slowly, taking a sip of water and staring skyward.

"She must've panicked. Still, the fact that the trail's picked up again and with no blood is a good sign. But if we're gonna go up there we've got to get going. Don't wanna be climbing up that in the dark."

Eamon flexed his fingers and gloves and sighed, "Wishing we'd brought the climbing hooks now."

"We're only following the trail. Anywhere that she can climb, we ought to be able to as well."

They'd spent the entirety of the games thus far in the shade and protection of the trees, so moving into the exposed, rugged landscape was a bold move. Especially since navigating the steep, rocky cliffs and slopes was no easy task, let alone looking for a specific path laid out by Madeline's trail. The trail itself wasn't easy to spot either, as the shredded yellowy grains were hard to spot against the sandy-coloured earth. On several occasions they would make accidental deviations from the trail, putting them in precarious positions before being forced to backtrack.

Still, being as fit and trained as they were, Blair and Eamon worked well together to make rapid progress and before long the trees they'd emerged from looked positively tiny from high above. The route they walked may have been relatively steady, but Eamon knew they could just as easily be going up in a way where one misstep would spell the end.

"Damn," grunted Blair, "Have to admit, she's starting to both piss me off and impress me with how high she's climbed."

"You and me both. You were a sight for sore eyes when you weren't sweating like a fountain," grinned Eamon, earning him a middle finger.

Indeed, although it wasn't the tallest mountain around, they were roughly three quarters up as the sun began to set. However the grin vanished when the trail brought them over a crest and saw the Cornucopia nestled in the valley below.

"Shit, I didn't realize we were this close to the center!"

"Me neither," said Blair sheepishly. "In my defense, the map was just a rough sketch. Let's just stay low and keep moving, hopefully anyone around won't spot us."

Before they could move much further though, Eamon spotted something moving out of the corner of his eye in the distance and tapped Blair on the shoulder to get her attention. They crouched and squinted as a number of shadows ran across the northern mesa on the opposite side of the Cornucopia.

They were a long way off, but Eamon could make out six orange-clad figures; specifically two girls being chased by a group of four some thirty meters back.

"Careers," muttered Blair. It was weird for Eamon to hear her say that, given that she was also a Career. "Who are they going for though?"

Even from a distance, Eamon recognised the lavender hair of one of the girls. "Vesper. From Seven. No idea who the girl with her is though." A knot formed in his stomach as he realised how easily he could have been allies with her.

"Well how many girls are there left? There's me, Madeline is somewhere on this mountain, Vesper, Jasmine and Hilda are chasing them… and the District 10 girl, Francesca. Must be her."

Both those girls were threats to win; if the Careers killed them without suffering any casualties of their own, they'd be hard to beat.

Suddenly Francesca diverged from Vesper and ran north on her own, while Vesper kept heading west. Neither faltered, leading Eamon to believe they'd decided to split up to confuse the Careers. And it momentarily worked, as the foursome came to a stop and hesitated. Hilda pulled out a bow and shot an arrow at Francesca, but it missed, and she continued over the edge of the mesa and out of sight. The warhammer-wielding Landon was shouting something and although Eamon and Blair couldn't make out what they were, it soon became clear as all four of them continued after Vesper, doubling their efforts to make up for the lost time.

Vesper was fast as lightning, but it made no difference as she soon reached the western most edge of the mesa. Unlike Francesca however, the sheer canyon cliffs offered no way down and she was soon cornered.

"Game over," said a monotone Blair. "She's done."

Eamon sighed. A bad way to go for someone so strong.

Vesper turned and walked towards her opponents tall, proud and fierce. As she pulled out her curved dagger, it was clear she wasn't going to go down without a fight. They circled her but were clearly hesitant to strike first, despite their overwhelming advantage. They knew Vesper could be just as deadly as any of them. She was saying something, loud and confident, although again, Eamon and Blair couldn't make out what exactly.

There was a moment of still silence before it all went off. Jasmine initiated by throwing something small with incredible speed, but Vesper was faster. She dodged, and the projectile flew past her, burying itself in Dennis' right hand, causing him to drop his spear in a howl of pain. Vesper took advantage of Jasmine's momentary shock and pounced on her with the reflexes of a panther, narrowly avoiding an arrow loosed by Hilda and burying her dagger deep in Jasmine's neck.

"District 1: Jasmine Wilde," the cannon resonated.

Before Vesper could free her dagger from Jasmine's body however, Landon had crossed the distance between them in two steps, and with a one-handed, almost-lazy flick of his hammer, pounded Vesper square in her side. The blow sent her flying several metres to land in a heap on the ground, unable to get up. Landon stood over her, and with two hands this time, brought the hammer over his head with terrifying speed.

Eamon turned away at the last second. The cannon's declaration of "District 7: Vesper Rhodes," told him all he needed to know.

"She went out swinging at least. That's how I'd want to go," said Blair quietly beside him.

"You were right… he's a monster," said Eamon.

"I think that monster has just noticed us watching."

Eamon whipped back around. Sure enough, Landon had stepped away from Vesper's body and despite being so very far away, was looking directly at Eamon and Blair and gave them an overly-happy wave. Blair gave him an unenthusiastic one in kind. She wasn't immediately concerned; even in broad daylight it would take him hours to get down from his mesa, much less climb up their mountain. Still, it was clear he had the pair of them in his sights.

"Come on, let's keep moving," muttered Eamon.

With the sun was well and truly below the horizon, Eamon and Blair turned their backs on the Careers and continued up the mountain. The Cornucopia disappeared completely from view as they made their way over another crest, however the trail was now impossible to see under the veil of darkness. They decided it was futile to continue so elected to set up camp in a crater set into the mountain.

A sound echoed through the crater and the pair tensed up. An eerie wail.

"Hello?" called Blair into the darkness.

The wail stopped.

"Madeline?" said Eamon uneasily.

A small dark figure emerged from under a rock shelf and flung itself at Eamon.

"Eamon! I knew you'd come! You have to help, I-I don't know what I'm doing!" blubbered a tearful Madeline as she hugged him tightly.

 **Man I've put this story on the backburner for a long time. I have a lot of great ideas for this story and some of them have really started coming into effect as you can see from this chapter, I just had issues with writer's block and motivation. Definitely my longest chapter and in my opinion one of the best so far. Hope you enjoy!**

 **24** **th** **Place: Cecilia Moreau - District 12 Female. Killed by Hilda Blythe.**

 **23** **rd** **Place: Axel Costa - District 1 Male. Killed by Eamon Cunningham.**

 **22** **nd** **Place: Ivanna Merchant - District 6 Female. Killed by Vesper Rhodes.**

 **21** **st** **Place: Paige Delaney - District 8 Female. Killed by Karmichael Damocles.**

 **20** **th** **Place: Owen Magnussen - District 8 Male. Killed by Landon Starr.**

 **19** **th** **Place: Zoey Townsend - District 3 Female. Killed by Dennis Kessling.**

 **18** **th** **Place: Spencer Nash - District 7 Male. Killed by Blair Lynch.**

 **17** **th** **Place: Cooper Hastings – District 10 Male. Killed by Karmichael Damocles.**

 **16** **th** **Place: Alys Redding – District 5 Female. Killed by Landon Starr.**

 **15** **th** **Place: Timothy Crow – District 3 Male. Killed by Madeline Skylock.**

 **14** **th** **Place: Harvey Goodwin – District 12 Male. Killed by Holdhorn.**

 **13** **th** **Place: Kale Fox – District 11 Male. Killed by Eamon Cunningham.**

 **12** **th** **Place: Nora Wormwood – District 11 Female. Killed by Blair Lynch.**

 **11** **th** **Place: Jasmine Wilde – District 1 Female. Killed by Vesper Rhodes.**

 **10** **th** **Place: Vesper Rhodes – District 7 Female. Killed by Landon Starr.**


	19. Terror Forming

Chapter 19.

Eamon sat at the lip of the crater where he had an unobstructed view of the Cornucopia and the surrounding rugged landscapes. The sky was a perfect, unblemished blue as it had been every minute since the Games had started and the morning sun had just extricated itself from the horizon beyond the mountains. He was on watch duty after a relatively sound sleep following his reunion with Madeline the previous night. He turned to look back at her and Blair in their sleeping bags under the rock overhang in the crater, deep in thought as he recalled what Madeline had told him the previous night.

He'd had what felt like a minor heart attack when she burst out from the shadows in tears, but then sweet relief and joy would wash over him. And if Leslie was watching (as she surely was), he could surely feel the same feelings come over her as well. The ensuing hugs and reassurances that everything was okay took what felt like an age, with Blair standing off to the side, little more than a third wheel for the time being.

Once everything had calmed down, they'd sat in the darkness and Eamon began to ask what had happened since the first day.

"It didn't go well," said Madeline softly, shaking her head. "I knew you would go for the Cornucopia, so that's what I was going to do to but then at the last minute… couldn't do it."

"Yeah… that was my bad," admitted Eamon. "I'm sorry we should've had a plan beforehand, that one's on me."

"Kind of just ran into the forest," continued Madeline. "Too panicked to find food or anything, just tried to stay away from… anything really. Eventually Nott sent me this."

Eamon didn't realise she had a backpack of her own until she reached for it, from which she pulled out a clear bottle with a mouthful of water left in it. He also realised that this meant Nott was still around. He'd crossed Eamon's mind a few times, but he'd almost forgotten that Nott had just up and disappeared without a trace the morning before the Games. At least he was doing what he was meant to and helping Madeline before himself.

"He also told me to find you somehow. I see you found my trail," she said, with a smile at the corner of her lips appearing briefly before vanishing once again. "I figured you would. It was dark, and difficult, and… and…"

Suddenly her words became choked and incomprehensible, and her hands began to shake and quiver, more so than they already been. For the first time since seeing her again, Blair leaned in and asked surprisingly gently, "Maddie… you didn't get that backpack by running away from the Cornucopia, did you?"

Whether it was the question, or Blair speaking up for the first time, Madeline went completely still. Staring fixatedly at her feet, she shook her head ever so slightly.

"Who was it?"

A tear rolled down Madeline's cheek. "The boy from Three," she whispered.

Eamon had remembered hearing the sound of Timothy Crow's cannon on day one. He put his arm around Madeline and held her close, before taking out the water bottle from his own pack and handing it to her.

"He was walking nearby," she mumbled, "I thought he was coming towards me. I hid and when he walked right past me, I picked up a rock and I hit him with it. And I hit him again and again and again…"

The three of them sat in silence for a while before Madeline continued. "After that I freaked out. Took me a while to remember to leave my trail. Came up here and I've been here ever since. Nott sponsored me again around midday. Some corned beef sandwiches."

"You mind if I ask what's in your bag?" asked Eamon uncomfortably.

"Umm… a sleeping bag, some bandages, a bag of grapes, and… whatever these things are," she said pulling a number of colourful, metallic objects from the bottom of her pack.

"Carabiners," said Blair taking one and examining its hinge. "We use them in climbing training in the academies at Two. Can't imagine them being all that useful on their own though."

After that, Eamon and Blair had recounted to Madeline their events of the Games thus far, albeit excluding certain details like exactly how they'd killed the two District 11 kids.

"Wow," said a hushed Madeline. "You two have been through a lot. I guess I'm just glad you're okay." Eamon could tell she had mixed feelings anyway but held his tongue.

"We're running a bit low on water though," said Blair shaking her bottle slightly. "Might need to head back to the cave tomorrow."

Eamon nodded and stood up, stretching. "You two should get some sleep," said Madeline. "You've had a long day and I can't see myself sleeping anytime soon. I'll keep an eye out for the Careers."

Eamon opened his mouth to protest but all that came out was a yawn; it had been a very physical day. He gave Madeline one more very long hug and took her sleeping bag under the rocky overhang, while Blair unfurled the one from her pack a short space away. His relief at finding Madeline and exhaustion of the day washed over him and easily plunged him into a dreamless slumber.

At some point during the night Blair had taken over watch duties. He was somewhat more prepared for Blair waking him up this time, with him only half-heartedly reaching for his glaive beside him. A tinge of dark blue now pervaded the previously inky black sky and the sun would surely be breaching the horizon soon.

"Shh! Don't wake her!" muttered Blair, jerking her head at a spot a few metres away.

As he stood up and cleared his senses, he looked over at the other sleeping bag, occupied by a snoring Madeline. He smiled slightly.

"She was out like a light the instant I took over for her," said Blair quietly. Although it was dark, Eamon could tell she too had a small smile on her face. They walked away so as not to wake her while they talked.

"Need to talk to you about her by the way."

"I suppose this is where you tell me I'm a sappy fool for trying to help her?" said Eamon stretching.

"Well I wouldn't exactly be wrong. But no, to be honest. Actually I can see exactly why you're trying to help her. She's… she's alright, Madeline."

"More so than you thought?"

"Maybe. We'll see."

"Is that all you wanted to say?"

"Not quite. Come here."

Blair led him over to the lip of the crater, where the surrounding mountains and the Cornucopia in the valley below were bathed in moonlight.

"The Careers came down from that mountain during the night. They hiding in the bushes at the bottom of it, just north of the Cornucopia. Allows them to rest up _and_ ambush someone if they try to steal from it."

"And if they don't, they're probably going to try and come up here tomorrow."  
"Looks that way. A fight's coming sooner rather than later I think. Eamon… there's only nine people left. A third of us are up here, a third are down there, and god only knows where the rest are. We need each other to beat them. But if by some miracle we fight them, and all come out okay… well, that's where we part ways."

"Wait, what?" said Eamon confused.

"There's only one winner. And I know how this works; if it came down to it, you'd side with her over me any day."

Something caught in Eamon's throat and rendered him speechless. His face flushed with a mixture of emotions and his brain went numb. Despite her flaws, he felt like there was a genuinely good person in Blair, and it hurt to think that soon she would be gone. She was right of course, there was never going to be a happily ever after, but that hadn't stopped him from trying to prolong such thoughts.

"For what it's worth, I've enjoyed our time together. Even if I screwed up sometimes," she said softly, before heading back to the sleeping bag and leaving Eamon with nothing but his forlorn thoughts alone in the dark.

Such thoughts had occupied his mind throughout the rest of his watch until the sun came up. He took another tour of the surrounding area (as he had done so many times already during his watch) in a vain attempt to clear his head. He'd barely climbed two paces out of the crater when he saw it: two figures moving slowly on the neighbouring mesa range to the east. He crouched low and ducked behind a large rock to avoid being seen.

A boy with a knife was moving slowly and methodically behind what was the largest mountain goat Eamon had ever seen. If the beast had seen him stalking it gave no indication of knowing. On sure feet it navigated a path through the twisting precipices with the boy making the most of impressive agility to keep it firmly in his sights. Bit by bit, he closed up on his prey however at the last moment the goat turned and lowered its gnarled horns, rushing him down with overwhelming force.

 _It's a mutt!_ Eamon realised with a shock.

But the tribute had apparently seen such a manoeuvre coming, as he rolled out of the way with precision timing. As cunning and powerful as the mutt was, it was noticeably slower than him. It rushed him again, but the boy slipped to the side once more. With a swift slide, he reached through its shaggy hide and drove his knife through the beast's underbelly. As he twisted the knife, the mutt gave one final bleat, a low cry that somehow carried all the way to Eamon and it gave him goose bumps.

Eamon had to admit he was impressed. Over the years he'd seen few people kill a mutt, let alone come out unscathed. What was most curious though was that the boy was seemingly cutting open the mutt for meat; Eamon wasn't even aware that you could do such a thing. However it soon became clear that the mutt still had some secrets up its sleeve; unbeknownst to the tribute, who was focused on harvesting what he could, two more identical beasts were slowly converging on him the hills behind him.

 _I knew it couldn't have been that easy. When they die they call out to others nearby_ , thought Eamon.

They approached closer and closer, moving soundlessly like two great, shaggy ghosts. By the time the boy realised they were upon him it was too late. One of them had charged at his back with immense vigour, pushing him towards the cliff face and he had not the strength to push back or even move.

His body seemed to fall for ages, flailing in a desperate attempt to find some purchase on the harsh terrain but it was no use. A massive thud resonated through the valley and then another as his cannon declared, "District 6: Grant Overton".

Eamon sighed, but he had no more time to ponder what he'd just seen as the noise had seemingly woken up Blair and Madeline in the crater behind him. They were both still somewhat drowsy when he re-joined them and so he set about making what could only loosely be described as breakfast – everyone getting a slice of bread, a third of sausage, a handful of grapes and the remains of Blair's hot chocolate – as he recounted what he'd seen.

"So… stay away from big goats? Seems pretty straightforward," said Madeline.

"They seem pretty brutal, but if you're prepared you should be able to beat them. If you're not prepared though…"

"Madeline's right though," said Blair sucking on a grape. "As long as you avoid them, they're harmless. I mean, why would you go near one to begin with?"

"Food, apparently."

"Food? Can't imagine anyone ever trying to eat a mutt. Then again, maybe I just don't want to."

After breakfast, they packed up everything and looked out over the valley.

"Well we wanted to go back to the cave and grab some water right?" asked Eamon. "That'll let us grab the rest of the stuff we left behind as well–"

THUD.

"What was that?" asked Madeline uneasily.

THUD.

The loose rocks around them started vibrating violently and sliding down as the whole mountain began to rumble. All three of them suddenly found their footing uneasy and buckled backwards into the crater.

THUD.

The tremors grew louder, and they watched in horror as large cracks began appearing in the terrain and spreading like wildfire.

"Is it an earthquake?!" Eamon shouted over the noise.

"Worse! Landslide! Right underneath us!" yelled Blair.

"It doesn't matter what it is, we have to go!" panicked Madeline.

They didn't need telling twice. They could all hear the base of the mountain beginning to melt and collapse into the valley and it would be mere moments before the land beneath their feet gave way too. They bolted across the face of the mountain, and sure enough, the crater behind them crumbled and cascaded down into dirt, rock and rubble with an almighty roar. The cracks forming in the earth almost seemed to chase them as they ran, as if daring them to slow down. This was bad for Blair who was bringing up the rear, but also put a lot of pressure on Madeline in front to quickly and safely find a way to cover as much distance as possible.

After a minute, the mountain had almost completely transformed, but the landslide seemed to be relenting a little. For one split second they thought this meant they could let up, but they were badly wrong. A cry of shock and pain rang out from behind Eamon and he looked back in dread as a colossal chunk of earth chipped out right from underneath Blair's feet and threatened to send her plummeting to an almost-certain end.

There was no time to think. Rationale and practical reasoning escaped Eamon entirely as he lunged back for her outstretched hand. Sweaty as his hand was, he firmly clasped hers in his and wrenched her back up even as he continued running. It took all his strength and she twisted in a painful fashion as she landed, but Blair was alive. And that was all that mattered at that moment.

At that moment the chasing cracks slowed and ceased, even as the dirt and boulders continued to tumble below. Madeline was a few metres up ahead, looking back with a terrified, yet relieved expression. All three of them were sweating and panting as they fell to their knees and crawled to a relatively flat-topped section of the mountain, as far away from the landslide as possible. Madeline coughed and spluttered before rising to her feet hunched over. Red-faced and tasting sick in his throat, Eamon made to stand up, but it took several attempts for the disorientation started to subside.

"Well," he panted, "I was wondering when the Gamemakers where gonna brighten our day up. You were right though Blair, they're not the friendliest."

Blair hadn't noticed his remark as her face was contorted in agony, clutching at her foot.

"Oh shit."

"I think I twisted my ankle," she moaned.

Blood was thundering through Eamon's brain and making it impossible to think. He still couldn't quite comprehend everything that had happened during the landslide, let alone how to fix a shattered ankle.

"…Well, I think that's game over for me," winced Blair.

"No. I did not pull you back just there only for you to give up. We'll find some way to fix it."  
"Oh come on Eamon, nobody ever wins with an injury like this."

"I thought you Twos were supposed to be made of sterner stuff?" Madeline laughed, despite her exhaustion. She was pulling something out of her pack.

"I don't think bandages are going to make much difference," said Blair, flinching as she took of her shoe.

"I beg to differ," muttered Madeline. "Can I borrow that knife, Eamon?"

"You're not cutting me open. No way."

Why don't you sit still and be quiet or I won't help?"

As serious as the situation was, Eamon couldn't help but stifle a grin at the sight of Madeline bossing around a girl five years older than her while fussing over her. Blair made no more noise aside from the occasional twitch of pain from her ankle as Madeline set about whatever she was doing. Growing up, Eamon had occasionally seen Madeline play doctor at her house, but this wasn't playing anymore. She would occasionally ask Blair questions or move her foot into certain positions, while also using Eamon's knife to carve strips of fabric from her backpack.

Incredibly, using no actual stitching, she was able to intertwine the bandages and fabric together and mould it around Blair's foot, ankle and lower calf to create a makeshift splint. And in only a few minutes no less. Eamon was awestruck. Even with his extensive training, Madeline far outmatched him in treating injuries and wounds. Together they helped Blair up and moved her foot into position before sliding her shoe back on.

"It's hardly perfect, but at least it'll give your ankle the structure it needs. You might not be able to run, but you won't be a sitting duck if push comes to shove. And we might still be able to get off this mountain. But it does need time," finished Madeline somewhat proudly.

Blair looked at her and Eamon immediately knew she was wondering why she'd ever doubted Madeline. A hushed, "Thank you," told him all he needed to know. He was immensely proud of how far Madeline had come and what she could do for people. And he was happy that now other people could see it too. But as he looked into the valley below, he realised his joy would be short-lived.

"About that whole 'needing time' thing? We don't have it," he said, pointing.

They must've sensed vulnerability following the landslide, as the three Careers had emerged from their hiding and were sprinting across the Cornucopia grounds towards their mountain, looking directly up at Eamon, Madeline and Blair.

 **Holy moly, this was a far more intense chapter than I originally planned it to be. Madeline's back, and I'm actually really happy at how this chapter developed her! The group are aware of the mutts, but what does that do? The landslide I think was a really fitting Gamemaker screw-around for such a mountainous arena and it was clearly effective; how will Blair's injury affect her? And tbh her declaration of leaving the alliance even had me a little sad Worth pointing out that we're coming up to a string of very climactic and emotional chapters - so brace yourselves.**

 **24** **th** **Place: Cecilia Moreau - District 12 Female. Killed by Hilda Blythe.**

 **23** **rd** **Place: Axel Costa - District 1 Male. Killed by Eamon Cunningham.**

 **22** **nd** **Place: Ivanna Merchant - District 6 Female. Killed by Vesper Rhodes.**

 **21** **st** **Place: Paige Delaney - District 8 Female. Killed by Karmichael Damocles.**

 **20** **th** **Place: Owen Magnussen - District 8 Male. Killed by Landon Starr.**

 **19** **th** **Place: Zoey Townsend - District 3 Female. Killed by Dennis Kessling.**

 **18** **th** **Place: Spencer Nash - District 7 Male. Killed by Blair Lynch.**

 **17** **th** **Place: Cooper Hastings – District 10 Male. Killed by Karmichael Damocles.**

 **16** **th** **Place: Alys Redding – District 5 Female. Killed by Landon Starr.**

 **15** **th** **Place: Timothy Crow – District 3 Male. Killed by Madeline Skylock.**

 **14** **th** **Place: Harvey Goodwin – District 12 Male. Killed by Holdhorn.**

 **13** **th** **Place: Kale Fox – District 11 Male. Killed by Eamon Cunningham.**

 **12** **th** **Place: Nora Wormwood – District 11 Female. Killed by Blair Lynch.**

 **11** **th** **Place: Jasmine Wilde – District 1 Female. Killed by Vesper Rhodes.**

 **10** **th** **Place: Vesper Rhodes – District 7 Female. Killed by Landon Starr.**

 **9** **th** **Place: Grant Overton – District 6 Male. Killed by Holdhorn.**


	20. Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

Chapter 20.

"We have to move. NOW!" urged Eamon.

He helped Blair, still nursing her injury, hobble into motion. The three of them turned their backs on the Careers far below and raced south across the mountain.

"Can't go back the way we came," panted Madeline.

"Doesn't matter, we just need to find a way down _there_ ," gestured Eamon towards the vast forests below. "So long as we do that we'll have an easier time losing them."

"Yeah, about that…" muttered Blair, as they all came to a standstill and noticed a large and problematic impediment.

It hadn't taken long to reach the edge of the mountain. However the southernmost edge was a sheer cliff face that extended as far along as they could see, with nothing close to resembling a way down. The cliff drop-off and light breeze at their backs innocently threatened to swallow them all should they step too close.

"Welp, we're screwed. Had a good run while it lasted, though."

Eamon stared off at the cliff, seemingly transfixed not by its height, but by the hopelessness it symbolized. They had not much time and little options with which to work with. His brain was simultaneously numb and running into overdrive, trying to look for something, anything that could help.

"Well we can't stay here," said Madeline defiantly. "Let's go back and work another way down."

"Can't," muttered Blair. "If they're smart, and they definitely are, almost every other way down will take us into their path."

Eamon's eyes rolled over a landing some fifteen meters directly below them. It leveled out smoothly and relatively easily into the woods, which would make it the ideal way for Blair to get down without stressing her injury. But a fifteen-meter drop is a fifteen-meter drop, no matter how –

"I've got it!" said Eamon, a plan forming so rapidly in his mind it was almost audible. "But we have to work fast. Blair, get me that big roll of rope out of your pack."

The two girls looked at him curiously, before Blair was able to extricate the long, thick rope from her bag. He took it over to a large chunk of sturdy-looking, jutting rock protruding nearby.

"Eamon, what are you…?"

"Just bear with me for the moment. What I'm gonna do is tie this end around this rock. Meanwhile, I also need you two to tie knots in the rope every two or three meters. And make it quick! Come on!"

Bewildered, Madeline and Blair set to work whilst he rushed to anchor the rope to the mountain. Sure, it would take some much-needed length out of the rope, but Eamon felt it was better to be safe than sorry. He sincerely hoped this worked, otherwise they'd be in a world of pain. Nott had always stressed the importance of being able to improvise, and now he'd see just how well he could. With his work done, and Madeline and Blair still working, Eamon emptied everyone's backpacks in search for the other items he needed. He repacked two of them with nothing but a sleeping bag apiece, whilst repacking everything except the brightly coloured carabiners into the remaining pack.

"Uhh, Eamon have you ever done this before?" asked Blair hesitantly.

"Why, would you feel more confident in me if I said I had?"

"Probably."

"…Then sure, I've done this plenty of times."

"Have you ever felt an incredible urge to slap him back in Nine, out of curiosity?" Blair asked Madeline, eliciting a nervous chuckle from her.

Once they were done, the rope had three thick, evenly spaced knots along its length. Satisfied, he tossed the end of the rope over the cliff. It fell six meters short of the landing, but it would have to do. He slung the two sleeping-bag-stuffed packs over his back, with his glaive wedged once again between them and his back. He then gave Madeline and Blair a shiny metallic carabiner each, and suddenly what he wanted them all to do became comprehensively clear.

"No, forget it," protested Madeline, "I am not climbing down _that_."

"I've got a busted ankle, remember? I literally can't!"

"Sure you can, in fact you might not even need to use your feet" said Eamon adamantly. "Besides, I'll be going first, you two can follow my lead. Unless I screw up. In which case… yeah, don't do that."

They looked on in concern as Eamon went over everything in his head one more time to make sure he'd gotten this right. If he didn't, he'd either die or end up injured enough to make it all but certain regardless. Despite having next to no experience with mountain climbing, the height didn't faze him, surprisingly. Part of his training had involved him climbing trees of roughly similar height and he'd quickly come to revel in the weightless wonders of the experience. Still, their hopes of outrunning the Careers rested entirely in his improvised abseiling design.

 _I'm sure there's way more professional ways of doing this, but if there is, I've no idea what they are. Besides, desperate times, desperate measures_ , he thought to himself.

Madeline hauled the remaining pack over shoulder as Eamon explained how it all should work. With time still very much of the essence, Eamon clipped the carabiner through his belt and to the rope, binding him to it. He gripped it tight, making sure it was secure, before cautiously lowering himself back first over the edge. The wind howled and felt much more violent, each one signalling imminent doom, but he made to block it out.

He was now lying perpendicular to the cliff face, only connected by the rope and his shoes, as if he hoped they'd somehow give him extra purchase. He looked up and gave Blair and Madeline a nervous nod, both of whom were clearly on edge. Suddenly his grip slipped, and he plummeted! Or at least, he would have, had the carabiner not gotten stuck on the first knot a third of the way down. His heart racing and mouth dry, he was at least relieved to know that such precautions did indeed work as he'd planned. After taking a moment to regain his composure, he gingerly unclipped the carabiner and reclipped it just below the knot.

Eamon repeated his method without incident on his way to the second knot, and at last the third. This was where things would get tricky, so he relaxed at the final knot for a bit just to plan his next move. He could now drop from this height without seriously maiming or killing himself. He pulled out the glaive from his back and let it tumble to the landing beneath him, just away from where he would be landing. He then removed the two backpacks and grasped them firmly, and with a deep breath, unhooked the carabiner for the last time.

He plunged to the ground, positioning himself in a way so that he would land comfortably on the packs padded with cushy sleeping bags. Even so, the impact knocked him around a bit, but that wouldn't stop him cheering that his hastily thought-out design had worked! Picking up his glaive, Eamon grinned up at Madeline and Blair high above him and called out for them to come down.

As Madeline still had her reservations about heights, Blair went next. Eamon guided her as best as he could from below. She held her injured leg at an odd angle so as not to put unnecessary pressure on it, and just like he'd told her, she managed just fine despite it. Heavily mountainous as it is, District Two tributes were generally better climbers than those from elsewhere, and as a result she made it down to the third knot with no slipping and in almost half the time it had taken Eamon.

She baulked at the jump after the third knot however, knowing that such a fall would risk hurting her ankle even more.

"It's alright, I've got you," said Eamon standing directly beneath her.

She held her breath and unhooked herself. Eamon caught her and absorbed most of the impact, but she still crumpled on top of him. After a moment, they both realised how incredibly close they were, with their lips no more than an inch apart. Eamon's face flooded with colour and heat as Blair looked into his eyes with a curious expression, before the urgency of the situation brought them both back to their senses and they broke apart.

Madeline was up next, and Blair and Eamon made sure to guide her through every step of the way. Her hesitation and fear meant her descent was slow, but safe. In this moment, Eamon smiled internally at their teamwork. They almost felt like a family parody, with Eamon and Blair being the pseudo-parents concerned for their young girl. As cutthroat as the Games were, the three of them would still look out for another, although Blair's words from the previous night about leaving at some point still wounded him.

Eventually Madeline made it to the final knot, and eager for it be over and done with, unhooked herself almost immediately. Eamon was almost caught unawares but was still able to catch her, although at the cost of his legs giving way beneath him.

"I am not fucking doing that again. Under any circumstances," said Madeline, wincing as she got to her feet.

Blair had evidently never expected to hear such language from her, as she started laughing uncontrollably, in turn causing both Madeline and Eamon to start laughing as well. It was a laugh like no other to Eamon, like heavenly music to his ears, especially knowing how stoic she could be at times. In truth, they were also laughing out of relief. As Eamon looked at the cliff face high above, he realised how much this mountain had thrown at them, yet still they had conquered it. And the thought of Hilda, Dennis and Landon arriving up there only to find the rope dangling over the edge made their triumph even sweeter.

After their mirth subsided, they reorganised the belongings in their packs and set off down the slope that would level out into the forests below. Eamon led with his glaive in hand, with Madeline helping Blair down should she lose her footing. Soon they re-entered the forests with the cool shade and soft soil beneath their feet a more than welcome return. They made to head west hoping to return to the cave for much-needed shelter and water.

"Still gotta keep moving," said Eamon, "I want to put as much distance between us and them as possible."

"We're gonna have to fight them eventually though," said Madeline.

"True, but if we fought them now, with Blair injured, it would pretty much come down to me against all three of them. And I mean, I'm good, but certainly not _that_ good."

Madeline opened her mouth to say something, but at that moment something unsighted whipped through the air from behind them and embedded itself in the tree next to Blair, missing her by an inch. It was an arrow. Without knowing whom or where it came from, the three of them ducked and dived behind separate trees for cover. Blair fell on her ankle and silently cried out in agony and another arrow launched at the tree she was behind.

Eamon peered out from behind his own for a split second and an arrow flew his way as punishment, but there was no mistaking the tall, auburn-haired figure of Hilda Blythe. How?! How had she found them when they were supposed to climbing up the mountain? Oddly enough, yet still ultimately more terrifying, was that there was no sign of Landon or Dennis anywhere.

Things turned from bad to worse as it quickly became clear how smartly Hilda was handling the situation; she wasn't necessarily shooting to kill, but to keep Eamon and Blair pinned down. This led Eamon to believe that Landon and Dennis weren't far off. Once again, time was of the essence.

Despite seemingly having the upper hand, Hilda's fixation on Eamon and Blair as she moved in closer meant that Madeline's presence went virtually unnoticed. She likely had not considered Madeline worth the effort. Sure enough, Madeline had slowly begun to flank around her right side through the trees and plant growth unseen. Eamon was nervous; he didn't like the thought of putting her in a position that would expose her to the Career's strength. Still he did all he could to give her the best chance she could. He stuck his glaive out from behind the tree, feigning an attempt to come out from behind cover and as expected Hilda's arrow instantly flew towards it. Anything to draw her attention from the immobilized Blair and Madeline, whom Eamon could no longer even see.

He repeated this twice over, before Hilda grew wise to his tricks and made to move in closer. This was a big mistake. Like a wild cat, Madeline lunged at her unseen from a large bush. Before Hilda could raise her bow in surprise, Madeline's sudden tackle sent both of them tumbling into a gully behind her.

Eamon's eyes widened in shock as they fell like ragdolls, still trying to punch and kick and claw at one another. He ran to Blair to make sure she'd be okay on her own before going down after them. Hilda and Madeline fell to the bottom of the gully before he'd even started making his way down. They both had cuts and bruises but were still going at each other furiously. Madeline had somehow gotten on top of her and was amazingly hitting her with incredible vigour for someone her size and disposition.

However Hilda was still a Career and much older, and still had the raw edge in a fistfight despite not being able to get her bow out. Eamon could not get down the gully fast enough, but he just needed Madeline to hold out a few seconds more. The scene became more and more horrific as scratch marks extended the length of Madeline's arms and one half of Hilda's face was covered in a slick coating of blood. Desperate, Madeline grabbed a rock next to them and raised her arm to strike the final blow. Based on what she'd told him earlier about killing Timothy Crow, Eamon thought he knew what was about to happen next, but then everything changed. Hilda wasn't able to use her bow, but she was still able to curl her fist around one of the arrows that had fallen loose from her quiver. At that moment everything seemed to move in slow motion.

"NO!" screamed Eamon as he felt his blood turn to ice.

Madeline's rock-wielding arm descended… but not before Hilda drove the arrow into her chest.

A cannon boomed, "District 9: Madeline Skylock."

 **…so yeah, I did a bad thing. Aww, this was a really hard chapter for me to write as I loved Madeline a lot (not in that way ya weirdos). True, she was a bit of a 'scared-young-girl-that-needs-help' cliché but I really went out of my way to make her so much more than that. The interesting thing is, I've planned this story meticulously long before I actually started writing it and yet a lot of things get either taken out or inserted literally as I'm writing them (provided they integrate well into the story). As a result the story is constantly changing from what I originally intended and along the way there's been many possible outcomes to this Games that I've thought of with many possible Victors. In some of those outcomes Maddie was the Victor, and potentially even Eamon could have died this chapter. Basically I have a plan for this story, but it's not predictable even to me (if that makes any sense). Unfortunately my plan had to involve Maddie dying this chapter :c**

 **24** **th** **Place: Cecilia Moreau - District 12 Female. Killed by Hilda Blythe.**

 **23** **rd** **Place: Axel Costa - District 1 Male. Killed by Eamon Cunningham.**

 **22** **nd** **Place: Ivanna Merchant - District 6 Female. Killed by Vesper Rhodes.**

 **21** **st** **Place: Paige Delaney - District 8 Female. Killed by Karmichael Damocles.**

 **20** **th** **Place: Owen Magnussen - District 8 Male. Killed by Landon Starr.**

 **19** **th** **Place: Zoey Townsend - District 3 Female. Killed by Dennis Kessling.**

 **18** **th** **Place: Spencer Nash - District 7 Male. Killed by Blair Lynch.**

 **17** **th** **Place: Cooper Hastings – District 10 Male. Killed by Karmichael Damocles.**

 **16** **th** **Place: Alys Redding – District 5 Female. Killed by Landon Starr.**

 **15** **th** **Place: Timothy Crow – District 3 Male. Killed by Madeline Skylock.**

 **14** **th** **Place: Harvey Goodwin – District 12 Male. Killed by Holdhorn.**

 **13** **th** **Place: Kale Fox – District 11 Male. Killed by Eamon Cunningham.**

 **12** **th** **Place: Nora Wormwood – District 11 Female. Killed by Blair Lynch.**

 **11** **th** **Place: Jasmine Wilde – District 1 Female. Killed by Vesper Rhodes.**

 **10** **th** **Place: Vesper Rhodes – District 7 Female. Killed by Landon Starr.**

 **9** **th** **Place: Grant Overton – District 6 Male. Killed by Holdhorn.**

 **8** **th** **Place: Madeline Skylock – District 9 Female. Killed by Hilda Blythe.**


End file.
